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WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 






t 



WHEN THINGS WERE 
DOING 


BY 

C. A. STEERE 

t# 




CHICAGO 

CHARLES H. KERR & COMPANY 
1908 




LIBRARY of C0N3RE5S 
Two Copies Received 


DEC 26 190/ 


Copyriarm tntry 

ph^ '5 ffo7 
CLASSA XXc. No. 
'ZS'f 
COPY B. 


Copyright 1907 

By CHAS. H. KERR & COMPANY 


When Things Were Doing 


CHAPTER I. 

The Honorable Bill. Tempest solemnly lifted 
the glass of what, after due assiduity and ex- 
treme pains in compounding, he was pleased 
to call Roman punch. The sun was dropping 
swiftly down toward the Palisades of the Hud- 
son and his approaching exit from a wintry 
world of frozen fields and bare branches was 
attended by a gorgeousness as unusual for the 
season as it was spectacular. In a veritable 
blaze of glory his blood-red disc, framed in a 
sea of crimson satellites, bathed with an un- 
earthly radiance the still snow-covered land- 
scape of the Bronx, the crisp shining stretches 
of road where an occasional chime of sleigh 
bells lingered in the frosty air, the picturesque 
cottages of the well-to-do, the deserted parks, 
the skating ponds where bands of shouting 
youngsters scudded and circled with their 
hockey sticks, the many towers and spires that 
looked enchanted in the soft red winter haze. 


6 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


Very critically, like the connoisseur he was, 
the honorable Bill poised his glass in the mel- 
low glow that radiated from the west and 
gazed at the amber liquid. 

“Madame,’' he said at last, “since you decline 
to join me on this festive occasion, which comes 
but once a year, permit me to drink to your con- 
tinued health and happiness and he tossed 
off the contents of his glass at a gulp, smacking 
his lips approvingly. He reached for the de- 
canter to repeat the process, but madame was 
contrary minded and snatched the prize out of 
his reach, depositing it upon the sideboard. 

“Don’t be such a glutton. Bill,” she pro- 
tested, her red lips pouting saucily, her dark 
eyes glinting mischief. “I actually believe 
you’d swallow that horrid stuff to the last drop 
right before my face and eyes, if I’d let you — 
but I won’t let you.” 

“No,” argued her husband, selecting a fat 
Havana from his pocket case, “that’s where 
you’re wrong; I wouldn’t — not if you turn your 
face and eyes the other way.” 

With a sudden rush a low lying bank of 
clouds, just thrusting its somber bulk over the 
horizon, swallowed the glory of the sunset and 
brought twilight to the cozy and daintily-ap- 
pointed dining room and its occupants. Mad- 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


7 


ame switched on the electric lights, drew the 
curtains and, donning a voluminous apron, pro- 
ceeded to clear the table aided and abetted by 
Liza, temporarily their only domestic help, the 
other servants having been given their liberty 
for the day. 

The head of the family meanwhile, with sun- 
dry grunts of what he thought was satisfac- 
tion, but which were more than likely due to a 
distended stomach, lolled in a capacious 
leather-upholstered Morris chair, elevated his 
slippered feet, puffed his irreproachable Ha- 
vana, and watched with mingled admiration 
and envy the energetic movements of his wife ; 
for it was Christmas and the elaborate dinner, 
prepared by madame’s own dainty hands, had 
been a revelation to her lord and master ac- 
customed though he was to her exquisite me- 
nus. In an incredibly short time the debris of 
the feast had been removed to the kitchen, the 
dining room put in order by the fair young 
chatelaine and nothing remained of Christmas 
dinner but the memory — a mighty pleasant one, 
by the way, to judge by the beatific expression 
of the honorable Bill. 

“Josephine,” coaxed that worthy, ingratiat- 
ingly, “you might — er — if you would be so 
kind ” 


8 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


“Oh — you want that punch ?” queried madame. 
“Well, it would be a burning shame if you had 
to leave your chair and get it. All right ; don’t 
move for the world,” and placing the desired, 
nectar on a tray, together with some glasses 
and a box of cigars, she set the tray upon a lit- 
tle inlaid table and wheeled the outfit across 
the room to his elbow. 

“Seems to me,” she remarked, with mock se- 
verity not unmixed with mild wonder at her 
lord’s undeniable storage capacity, “that you 
have about contributed your share for one day 
toward your Uncle Sam’s internal revenue tax. 
It was sundry cocktails before breakfast; then 
it was highballs, gin rickeys, milk punches and 
the Lord knows what else, until luncheon time ; 
your luncheon, out of deference to the fact that 
you were to have an early Christmas dinner, 
consisted of a whole pumpkin pie, washed 
down with a half gallon — I should say — of rus- 
set cider; at dinner it was oyster cocktails to 
start off with, a bottle of Madeira with the 
soup, a bottle of Rhine wine with the fish, a 
botle of Chianti with the sweetbreads, followed 
by a half pint of claret, burgundy, sherry, port, 
sauterne or hock with every other course ex- 

cept that you drowned the turkey with two 
pints of champagne, had burnt brandy with 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


9 


your coffee and now, although it is only 4 :45 
and dinner is scarcely off the table, you are 
wrestling with a quart of Roman punch. It 
is a long time to midnight, and what other feats 
of bibulosity you are destined to accomplish 
goodness only knows. Judging, however, 
from — ” 

“By George \” interrupted the unabashed 
spouse, anxiously, “did you save a half pint of 
that Jersey cream — and some eggs? — Pve got 
to mix an egg-nogg for a nightcap, made with 
some of that 1847 Jamaica rum. Nothing like 
it to make a fellow sleep, don’t you know.” 

“Well, did anybody ever!” expostulated mad- 
ame, incredulously. “Oh, goodness, yes ; I 
imagine you will find some cream and eggs in 
the pantry — that is,” she added, sarcastically, 
“if you think you can stop drinking long 
enough to require a nightcap.” 

“That’s the stuff !” he commented, greatly re- 
lieved, and totally ignoring the sarcasm. “Say, 
Josie, you’re a peach — a positive treasure — 
don’t know what the dickens I’d do without 
you. Now get your violin, that’s a good girl, 
and we’ll have some Schopenhaur — heavens! no, 
I mean Schubert, Tschaikowski, Adamowski, 
or some other Owski — gad ! you’ve got ’em all 
faded to a finish, whether it’s music, menus or 


10 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


miscellaneous. There aren’t many of ’em in 
your class, old girl. When I married the 
daughter of old Pierre Mercereau, the best chef 
and cafetier that ever hit Broadway, I didn’t 
make any mistake ” 

“Whoa, Bill; put on the brakes. Your mo- 
tor’s running away on a down grade. Say, Bill, 
do you know what night this is?” 

“Cert’ny m’dear; you must think I’m inca- 
paci-paci — ink-ipac-tated.” 

“Then you must know that you and I are go- 
ing to the Metropolitan tonight to hear Caruso 
sing. You got the tickets a week ago.” 

“Crusoe ! Crusoe — damn good feller, Crusoe 
— didn’t know’s he could sing, though,” con- 
fided the head of the house, sleepily. The steam 
heat, the cozy arm chair, coupled with a hearty 
dinner, and — other things — seemed to militate 
against his evident desire to keep up appear- 
ances. 

“William Tempest! I’m ashamed of you. 
What! actually getting tipsy on Christmas 
night? I wouldn’t have believed it.” 

Which was a fact. She wouldn’t have be- 
lieved it on evidence less convincing than ocu- 
lar demonstration. She had seen him jauntily 
carry ofif too many loads to believe in her hus- 
band’s vulnerability to the arch mocker. 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


11 


deny the soft — soft ’mpeachment,” de- 
clared the crestfallen Bill, struggling valorously 
to his feet. “It's confounded close room — be 
all right in a minute." 

With his wife’s assistance he managed to pre- 
serve his equilibrium and his dignity long 
enough to gain the hallway and let himself out 
onto the veranda. The wind was rising and its 
gusty buffeting down from the north was a 
life-saver. While he stood there drinking in the 
grateful tonic and reviving every instant a big 
four-seated touring car, with much skidding of 
tires on the hard-trodden snow and much mer- 
ry badinage on the part of its occupants, was 
brought up in front of the house and a party of 
young folks piled out and dashed up the steps 
onto the veranda. 

“Why, Mr. Tempest!" they cried, “What is 
the matter? — you’ll catch your death of cold 
out here.’’ 

“Oh, nothing; just enjoying a breath of 
fresh air,’’ he replied carelessly, “come in.’’ 

“We’re going to the theatre,’’ explained Dar- 
by Blake, when the party had removed their 
wraps and filed into the sitting room,’’ and as 
Mrs. Tempest told Madge you were going we 
thought we’d pick you up.’’ 

“Thanks, old man. Well, Josie, what do you 


I 


12 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


say? Fact is, folks, Fd forgotten all about it 
until she reminded me of it a few minutes ago. 
It's early yet, though. But wait — come to think 
of it I can’t go — Josie you run and get ready, 
but it’s all off with me. I’ve got those infernal 
proofsheets to correct. Beastly bother, but the 
publishers have to have them in the morning. 
It’s a good four or five hours’ job, too, and I’d 
rather be hanged than fuss with them tonight.” 

^‘If you can’t go, I’ll stay and keep you com- 
pany,” declared Mrs. Tempest. 

“Nonsense !” he cried, “you’d have the time 
of your life moping around the house all alone 
Christmas night, for I shouldn’t let you so 
much as poke your nose into the den. So you 
see this chance is a godsend for you. Go and 
dress, now, like a good girl.” 

“Come on !” chorused the others, “he doesn’t 
want you and we do.” 

Thus adjured, madame yielded and went up- 
stairs to get ready. Of course there had to be 
mixed another bowl of punch, for the ex-assem- 
blyman was the quintessence of hospitality, 
and by the time Mrs. Tempest came down look- 
ing like a prize winner, as one of the young 
men had the temerity to hazard as his opinion, 
the whole company was in an exalted frame of 
mind and her husband, having recovered his 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


13 


second wind, was in the midst of a most elo- 
quent and learned disquisition upon the points 
of resemblance between a certain baffled gov- 
ernor and Diogenes. So sympathetic was the 
audience that it was on the point of starting a 
subscription to buy a lantern for the unhappy 
chief executive. 

"‘Well, girls, get into your coon-skins,” said 
Blake, “weVe got to be scorching down town ; 
but for my part I call it pretty hard lines to 
have to ride several miles on a cold night to see 
a counterfeit presentment when weVe got the 
real thing right here.” 

“Oh, he’s a wonder,” remarked Mrs. Bill, in 
a sotto voce cadence, and having in mind his 
recuperative, rather than his histrionic powers. 

Then the crowd said good night and left the 
honorable Bill to his own devices; and while 
he is skirmishing around in the pantry assem- 
bling the component parts of his egg-nog, a 
short sketch of his previous condition of servi- 
tude may the better prepare the reader for 
what is to follow. 

^ ^ ^ 5fc * 

Born and reared on a New Hampshire farm 
where the Saco threads its way to the sea through 
giant mountains, William Tempest’s boyhood 
was much the same as that of thousands of 


14 WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 

country youths. He attended the district schools, 
hunted, trapped and cast his flies in whirling 
trout pools, often helping out at farm work in 
summer, often guiding tourist parties through 
the Presidential range. His father, being com- 
fortably well-to-do, allowed the lad for the most 
part to follow his own bent. If there was any 
one thing at which the young man particularly 
excelled it was probably his ability to take a 
yardful of school boys, younger or older than 
himself — it didn’t seem to matter much — and pile 
them in a heap at his feet, holding them there at 
his sweet will while he stuffed their neckbands 
full of snow. This was his long suit, and it 
not only conduced to give him a certain eclat 
and standing among the husky young mountain- 
eers of his bailiwick, but it also not inconceiv- 
ably operated as a stretcher for his hat-band. 

When he was sixteen Bill thought he had 
absorbed about all the culture in the line of book 
learning that the home schools had on tap, and 
decided to tackle a ^‘prep” institution in a neigh- 
boring state ; but a dude schoolmaster from 
Boston, coming to board at the farm, put it 
up to Old Man Tempest that he could divide some 
of his all-embracing knowledge and still retain 
enough to do him. Bill, being open to conviction, 
a bargain was struck and the young man had a 
tutor to tute. 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


15 


As long as daylight lasted a yoke of oxen 
couldn’t have dragged Bill up to a tangled and 
perfidious snarl of Greek and Latin roots. He 
vastly preferred to strap on his snow-shoes, call 
the dogs and, gun on his shoulder, disappear in 
the heavy timber that densely clothed the lower 
altitudes of the mountains. On these occasions 
he would generally have something to show 
for his trip — an otter or mink taken in his 
traps, a raccoon skin, a deer, a big-horned owl, 
shot from his perch in the depths of the forest, 
a covey of quail caught napping in the lee of 
some projecting rock, a half grown cub; and not 
so very infrequently a full grown bear would be 
toted in on travois poles through the deep 
snow and the only light thing about that load 
would be the heart of the youthful hunter. But 
when supper was over and the long evenings 
stretched out interminably Bill would throw off 
his coat, get into his moccasins, drag his book- 
laden table over to one corner of the huge fire- 
place, grit his teeth, dig his toes into the rag 
carpet and sweat blood while his dude school- 
master put him through Greek and Latin de- 
clensions, regular and irregular conjugations, 
rules and their exceptions, translation, composi- 
tion, and other things, till the cows came home. 
Then for a change he would switch off into arcs, 


16 


WHEN TTIINCS WERE DOING 


tangents, truncated sections, cosines, radii, bi- 
nomial theorems and much other fierce tommy- 
rot that lies between the cup and the lip of a 
candidate for matriculation honors at our univer- 
sities. . 

Once or twice during the first six weeks of his 
martyrdom the desperate youth, after the usual 
seance was over and he had retired for the night, 
lay awake all of five or ten minutes deliberating 
the most plausible pretext for alluring to some 
inaccessible ravine and there choking and hurl- 
ing to destruction his pedagogical nemesis. That 
particular phase of his existence was as evanes- 
cent as it was absorbing while it lasted. Before 
spring, so deadly in earnest was the pupil and 
so tenacious his memory, he had made such 
progress that Mr. Dude had to sit up and take 
notice. He found that when driven to a cprner 
he couldn't draw upon his imagination with 
the same freedom he at first enjoyed. He com- 
menced to earn his money. All spring and 
summer Bill plugged away like a six-day tourna- 
ment rider and by fall concluded he’d make a 
presentable showing in Dartmouth’s football 
squad. 

He passed his examinations all right and his 
dream of getting on the football team turned 
out to have been an incontestable hunch. When 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


17 


one is seventeen — at least he wouldn’t be eigh- 
teen until the following December — and stands 
five feet ten in his stockings, weighs 180 pounds 
without an ounce of superfluous adipose tissue 
and, when stripped, looks for all the world like 
the pictures of Hercules as delineated in school 
mythologies, one isn’t very apt to get lost in 
the shuffle when the powers that be go gunning 
for gridiron timber. But the dream was doomed 
to be suddenly and rudely shattered. He hadn’t 
been there three weeks when some breach of 
etiquette, unintentional on his part but none the 
less a breach, marked him for discipline by the 
Sophies. The affair came off at the appointed 
hour ; but so many sophomore heads were broken 
and so many sophomore arms were twisted out 
of their sockets that the indignant faculty, 
amazed that such things could be and unanimous 
in the resolve that a repetition was simply un- 
thinkable, incontinently bounced the innocent, yet 
from their point of view inexcusable, author of 
so much sophomoric woe. 

However, what Dartmouth lost on the gory 
grill-ground proved a conspicious gain to the 
jubilant sons of Old Eli who welcomed the out- 
law with wide-open arms. What feats of valor 
and of strength the prodigy there performed and 
what forlorn hopes he led to victory, what laurel 


18 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


chaplets, twined by fair hands graced his not 
over-modest brow would furnish the theme for 
a second and modern Aeneid. Suffice it here 
to say that our hero was during his day the most 
conspicuous figure, socially and athletically con- 
sidered, in the university contingent of the Elm 
City and that his reputation in drinking bouts 
was all that the most ambitious gridiron non- 
pareil could desire. 

After graduating he went back to the old 
farm for a year’s rest among the mountains. 
Being an idol of flesh and blood is rather 
strenuous business, and although his granite 
physique had stood up under the strain remark- 
ably well young Tempest concluded that tramp- 
ing the hills awhile with rod and gun and a 
change to sparkling spring water from the “hot 
and rebellious” fluids he had been wont to throw 
into his blood would do him no particular harm. 
And the correctness of his diagnosis was amply 
attested by the results. At the end of his pastoral 
retirement he was fit as a fiddle and longed 
to get into the game. Accordingly, one fine 
September morning nearly fifteen months after 
his graduation, he packed his grip and boarded 
the train for New York. He was in his twenty- 
third year, tanned like a Mojave Indian, erect 
as a crowbar, massive yet agile as an eel, tipped 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


19 


the scales somewhere around the two-hundred- 
pound mark, and was physically as fine a speci- 
men of his genus as the Granite or any other 
state ever turned loose to compete in the cut- 
throat game of life. The game was all ahead, 
but it had no terrors for him. Behind a 
round, smoothly shaven, almost boyish face and 
ingenuous blue eyes that looked out upon the 
world with the wide-open candor of a doll’s in 
a china shop, there was an iron will and a cool, 
calculating brain — the temperament that takes 
punishment stoically and inflicts it remorselessly. 

He had a modest fortune of about $25,000 
and that he took along for luck. He was at 
first undecided whether he would apply for the 
position of president of some prosperous railroad 
or run on an independent ticket for mayor of the 
town. He finally compromised the matter by 
butting into Columbia university as a law student. 

Here his career was smooth and for the most 
part uneventful. He attended the lectures with 
commendable regularity, studiously and heroically 
assimilated the prescribed amount of flimflam, 
dry rot and other rot, and in general conducted 
himself with decorum, earnestness and a sobriety 
unexpected to those familiar with his Yale rec- 
ord. He was a regular attendant at the gym- 
nasium, his superb vitality necessitating some 


20 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


exhaust valve. Boxing was his favorite exer- 
cise but nobody there could stand up under his 
playful wallops so he took to fencing. There 
was a young fellow about his own age, Victor 
Mercereau, with whom he became acquainted. 
This youth was an all-round athlete, but took 
special pride in his swordsmanship, which was 
the real thing, being the result of many years’ 
training under some of the best fencing-masters 
of Europe where he had received much of his 
education. He was a New Yorker by birth, 
his grandfather having been one of the aristo- 
cratic refugees who by flight saved their necks 
from the guillotine at the time of the French 
revolution. The family had prospered in New 
York and when Pierre Mercereau, his father, 
died he was not only proprietor of one of the 
swellest catering establishments in the metrop- 
olis, but a millionaire twice over. Under these 
circumstances Victor and his sister, Josephine, 
both of whom had spent half their school days 
on the Continent, decided to drop the catering 
business and take life easy. The two young 
men became a regular Damon-and-Pythias team 
and Mercereau not only taught his friend the 
art of fencing but, what was a far more practical 
service, introduced him to New York’s inner cir- 
cle — to clubdom, to the professional lights, poli- 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING - 


21 


ticians and statesmen.' And, as if this were not 
enough, he put his friend under a still deeper 
obligation by introducing him to his sister Josie, 
a tall, vivacious, highly accomplished and ex- 
quisitely beautiful brunette whose many graces 
of mind and person were further enhanced by 
the fact that she was a fastidious housekeeper 
and a positive genius in the culinary art — to 
say nothing of her ample fortune. It was a case 
of love at first sight, and after a brief but ardent 
courtship they were married. 

' Nothing succeeds like success, and things were 
certainly coming Bill Tempest’s way. The big 
law student not only took highest honors in 
his classes, but he was rapidly acquiring a repu- 
tation for much forensic ability. In the student 
debating societies and elsewhere his eloquence, 
his sonorous voice, commanding presence, re- 
sourcefulness, parliamentary skill and grasp of 
public questions had already marked him as a 
prodigy and presaged a career at the bar or 
in politics which need have no bounds but his 
own ambition. 

In due time he was graduated with honors, 
admitted to the bar and the following autumn, 
in a whirlwind campaign, marked by strenuous 
opposition and bitter personalities, was elected 
to the Assembly on the Republican ticket. 


22 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


It was in this legislative body that the young 
Demosthenes learned the difference between the- 
oretical and practical politics. He had read of 
political machines so powerful that they ground 
to pulp all opposition, strangled budding initiative 
and compelled the most servile obedience to their 
slightest wish — he had read of such things and 
marveled that slaves could be found so pliant 
as to submit. He now found himself up against 
the real article. 

At the very outset of his legislative career the 
wily machine leaders of his party had recog- 
nized both his talent and his independence; and 
to gradually undermine and break down the 
latter so as to avail themselves of the former 
was the task they set themselves. To this end 
the young assemblyman was patronized and 
deferred to, was placed upon important com- 
mittees, was wined and dined, lionized and flat- 
tered until a weaker head would have been upset. 
Perhaps his might, too, for he was young and 
had absorbed a great deal of academic ortho- 
doxy; but the “machinists” proved to be com- 
mon blacksmiths — they made the fatal mistake 
of too soon assuming that the lion was tamed, 
whereas he was only slightly dopey. Having 
no particularly exalted ideas about the rights 
of that vague abstraction concretely referred to 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


23 


as “the people,” and looking upon opportunity 
as the stepping-stone to power, he had more 
than once upon the floor of the House eloquent- 
ly and ingeniously defended some flagrant cor- 
poration steal — not as a matter of compulsion, 
but as a matter of course. This emboldened 
his foxy old political jockeys to groom him 
for the inner paddock where political races are 
thrown and winners are picked in advance, 
where dope is manufactured and deviltry dis- 
cussed with brutal candor and a callousness 
beggaring description. 

But they had overlooked one blemish : the 
rugged personal honesty of the neophyte who 
for mere graft and boodle could no more descend 
to their infamous level than the waters of 
Niagara could run back over the precipice. The 
break came when a smooth railroad lobbyist 
ran up to Albany with a good fat “roll” and 
proceeded to lubricate the machine in the in- 
terest of a notoriously scandalous bill that was 
hanging fire in both branches of the Legisla- 
ture. That settled it. The honorable Bill not 
only balked at receiving their dirty dollars, but 
exposed the whole scheme to the newspapers, 
denouncing it in the Assembly and forcing the 
lobbyists to get out of town. 

Thereafter the honorable Bill was a dead one. 


24 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


He was ostracized socially ; he was deposed from 
his committee 'membership and, big as he was, 
the honorable speaker of the House could never 
see him when he wished to mix in some of the 
legislative pow-wows by which Special Privilege 
acquires still more special and ample privileges. 

And when his term was up, his law-making 
' career being thus blighted, he began to study 
law — and sociological and economic questions 
as well — from a totally different standpoint than 
that of most college text books. He became an 
ardent Socialist, made no effort to practice his 
profession, but instead wrote a novel intended 
to shrivel up the whole capitalistic order. The 
proofsheets had been sent up that morning by 
his publishers and the accompanying note had 
begged him to make the final changes and re- 
turn them by noon of the following day, as a 
rush of new work necessitated an immediate 
clearance of work on hand. 

As Tempest entered his “den” the clock was 
striking seven and the wind, which had increased 
from a moderate blow to a howling gale, drove 
sharply against the windows the first flakes of 
a snowstorm that has passed into history as a 
record-breaker. 


CHAPTER II. 


The den was delightfully warm and cozy as 
Tempest entered it with his proof sheets in one 
hand, his pitcher of punch in the other. Very 
carefully he set the pitcher down for every 
drop of that creamy liquid was precious stuff — 
fit for the gods and those discriminating mortals 
with godlike tastes and the means to gratify 
them. A log fire was burning in the fireplace 
although the hissing steam pipes made it super- 
fluous from any other vieW than an aesthetic 
one. This was the author’s sanctum, the only 
place, as he said, where he could find his muse at 
home. It was where he turned out those muck- 
raking stories which were snapped up so eagerly 
by certain capitalistic magazines, and where he 
composed the socialistic chef d’oeuvres dissem- 
inated as propaganda wherever Socialism had 
a foothold. It was up among the gables, being 
in fact about a third of a very commodious attic, 
the remaining two-thirds being used as a gym- 
nasium and billiard room. 

Pushing over into the nook by the fireplace 
a low table the novelist deposited thereon the 


26 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


punch, a jar of tobacco, his old black meerschaum 
and his work. Then he adjusted to the proper 
focus his green-shaded electric light, drew up 
a comfortable chair and proceeded to fill and 
light his pipe preparatory to getting down to 
work. But somehow he didn’t seem to feel very 
particularly in the mood for work. It was too 
comfortable for anything just to sit and smoke 
' and listen to the shrieking and moaning of the 
wind which had risen to hurricane force and 
drove before it a swirling and ever-thickening 
and blinding cloud of snow. He took a long 
pull at the pitcher. It was so deliciously good 
he had to take another. 

“Now,” he said, “I must get to work, by 
Jupiter;” but he only sat and smoked in ecstasy, 
dreamily contemplating the fierce jolt his forth- 
coming novel was going to give the “system.” 
His head dropped lower and lower. 

* He * 

All at once he thought he heard a stamping 
in the lower hall as if some one were shaking 
the snow off his boots, followed by a tread on 
the stairs. Presently the door of his den opened 
and a stranger entered — a tall, pleasant-faced man 
of apparently thirty-five years, dressed in a 
workingman’s leather jacket, and knee-length 
storm boots laced outside corduroy trousers. 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


27 


'‘Hello !” the stranger said, “I thought Td 
find you in.” 

“Oh — ” began the author, wonderingly, and 
added graciously, “please bring a chair up to 
the fire.” 

“Thanks; it is a rather disagreeable night,” 
remarked the other, accepting the proffered hos- 
pitality. 

“Now, Comrade Tempest, while you don’t 
know me, I feel as if I had been acquainted with 
you all my life. Ever since you joined our cause 
I have regarded you as the natural and logical 
leader of the Socialist movement. Many other 
trusty comrades hold the same view. For my- 
self — my name is Stevens, Hartley Stevens, at 
your service — I am a civil engineer. For the 
past eight years I have been in the employ of a 
sub-contractor under the government. Our work 
for the most part has consisted of repairs, alter- 
ations and improvements in connection with the 
country’s coast and interior defenses, always, of 
course, under the direction of an army engineer. 
The latter is, by the way, a thoroughly reliable 
Socialist, being one of the only two officers 
in the service holding West Point commissions 
to secretly embrace the cause of the proletariat. 
There are two or three more, I believe, who won 
their shoulder-straps from the ranks and who 


28 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


can be depended upon to side with us whenever 
our board of strategy shall decide to precipitate 
the conflict which seems to be — er — shaping up, 
if I may so express it. But this by way of intro- 
duction to what I came to say. Of course I 
have had exceptional opportunities to acquaint 
myself with the minutest details of all these 
fortifications and have prepared drawings sup- 
plemented by copious notes ; and these I can pro- 
duce whenever called upon. 

“There is a meeting tonight of our board 
of strategy,” went on the engineer after light- 
ing his pipe, “and I have been instructed to in- 
form you of your nomination to its presidency. 
As you are probably aware the board now con- 
sists of twenty-five members, one each from those 
states numerically strongest in the cause ; but 
this number is shortly to be increased, to include 
at least one member from each state in the Union. 
I will inform you that your nomination is unani- 
mous. There are stirring and epoch-marking 
times ahead and, as this board is supreme and 
final authority upon all questions of tactics, T 
need not say, perhaps, that your responsibility 
will be as weighty as your fame will be enduring, 
provided we successfully inaugurate our pro- 
gramme.” 

The speaker paused to knock the ashes from 


WHEN things were DOING 


29 


his pipe, and the nominee — imperturbable, sphinx- 
like, his steel-blue eyes burning with ,an in- 
scrutable light and steady as the glow of a loco- 
motive headlight — sat in the semi-shadow cast 
by the green-shaded incandescent burner, puffed 
at his black meerschaum and said never a word. 

“It is only fair,” resumed the comrade, “in 
view of the responsibilities you are asked to 
assume, to give you a partial outline of the situ- 
ation according to latest developments. I will 
not enlarge upon the many abuses of govern- 
ment which operate to make the lives of the 
masses an unendurable thing — the impossibility 
of having an honest count of ballots; the arro- 
gant and of late scarcely disguised partiality of 
the courts, from lowest to highest, which have 
one law for the rich and another for the poor ; 
the prohibitive and ever-soaring prices of neces- 
sities ; the increasing dependence of the state 
upon the soldiery to shoot contentment into strik- 
ing workmen, and many other grievances. These 
things you are familiar with and have vehemently 
denounced from the lecture platform and in the 
party press. In other words there is no question 
as to the desirability of revolution nor even as 
to the necessity for it — feasibility alone determin- 
ing our course of action. As to the latter I have 
to announce that our chances are looking up.” 


30 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


There was an almost imperceptible . stiffening 
of the' nominee’s spinal column, a faint quiver 
of the nostrils as of a war-horse scenting dis- 
tant battle, but the steel-blue eyes burned un- 
waveringly through the smoke-wreaths as be- 
fore and — that was all. 

“In spite of the fact that all scientific Social- 
ists realize that our world-wide movement is 
an intellectual one — that you cannot by force 
compel heterogeneous masses to homogeneous 
thought and action, even for their own con- 
spicuous and signal advantage — certain obsta- 
cles heretofore considered insurmountable have 
either been overcome or eliminated and the 
speedy inauguration of the co-operative com- 
monwealth becomes by the logic of events ad- 
visable, thus fulfilling, so far as this country 
is concerned, the historical mission of our 
party,” proceeded the unbidden guest in a mat- 
ter-of-fact, dispassionate voice. “In the first 
place I will state that our growth has during 
the year about to expire been something phe- 
nomenal, so that out of a voting population of 
twenty millions five millions openly advocate 
the revolutionary cause and work for its suc- 
cess. Of these five millions, according to the 
most reliable information obtainable, one-half 
are intelligent, consistent and earnest Social- 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


31 


^ ists who know what they want, why they want 
it and what to do with it after they’ve got it; 
while the balance is made up of hot-heads, sore- 
heads, fire-eaters, chronic antis and victims of 
the system who noisily demand a change and, 
having got it, will not improbably give us more 
trouble than the remaining fifteen millions who 
actively or passively oppose our principles. 

“The standing army, always the bulwark of 
reactionary interests, has been democratized 
approximately thirty-three per cent., while the 
navy is extensively honeycombed by the same 
principles. At the crucial moment these com- 
rades, being at all times in touch with their 
civilian brothers, can be depended upon to 
greatly cripple the capitalist programme. 

“There is not in the whole country an arsen- 
al or powder magazine, public or private, in 
which we have not at least one trusty com- 
rade ” 

A chuckle that sounded like “good” seemed 
to come from the center of a cloud of tobacco 
smoke. 

“I beg your pardon — ’’ said the comrade. 

“On the contrary it is I who beg yours,” de- 
clared the nominee. “Pray proceed, Mr. Ste- 
vens.” 

“In all the gun and ammunition factories, big 


32 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


and little, where light and heavy ordnance, ma- 
chine guns and army equipment are turned out 
our spies are employed and we receive frequent 
report of the output and disposition of the prod- 
uct. In fact our system covers every branch of 
the military service. 

“Moreover in the Socialist colony our invent- 
ors have been busy. To my own brother, a 
young chemist of promise, belongs the credit 
of discovering an explosive ten thousand times 
as powerful as anything heretofore known to 
the world. So fearful is its composition that it 
is said a five-gallon jar of it contains enough 
kinetic force, properly confined, to split Man- 
hattan Island from east to west as by a terrific 
earthquake. But more important than all the 
rest, to my mind, is the perfection of a tiny sub- 
marine boat which has by actual test remained 
thirty-six hours under water, during which time 
it covered more than twelve hundred miles. 
With half a dozen of these boats and a supply 
of cartridges made of the new explosive, which 
we have named sizmos, a few bold comrades 
could go out and within thirty minutes after 
getting within range sink the biggest navy 
afloat.’' 

With a bound Tempest was on his feet. 
“Count me in on this, comrade,” he said. “Use 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


33 


me as you will — I am ready to lead or follow — 
but in any case the co-operative commonwealth 
is looming large on the horizon.. Now, old 
man, there are just about two good bumpers 
left in this pitcher. Here’s to the cause ! May 
the goal of Socialists never pirouette any 
farther away than it appears to me at this 
identical, blessed instant!” 

In silence they drank the toast. The engi- 
neer glanced at the clock which was on the 
point of striking nine. 

^'Come,” he said, ^'the comrades wait for your 
answer. It is only a dozen blocks down to the 
hall. We selected it for this meeting because 
the neighborhood is a quiet one and, besides, 
it is near your home. We consulted your con- 
venience in everything but the weather, and 
that we could not foresee.” 

“Pray, do not mention it,” rejoined the other, 
drawing on a pair of storm boots. “Fm from 
the White mountains where the weather clerk 
puts up the real thing in the way of snow 
storms.” 

The place chosen for this Christmas election 
by the Socialist Strategy Board was soon reached, 
notwithstanding the driving snow, and they 
were ushered into the presence of the comrades 
upon whose shoulders rested the grave respon- 


34 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


sibility, whether for weal or woe, of the com- 
ing revolution. Bill Tempest knew them all, 
personally or by reputation, and his entrance 
was the signal for a subdued, but enthusiastic 
ovation. The very atmosphere was surcharged 
with portentous things. The throbbing under- 
current of revolt was in the blo6d, the intoxica- 
tion born of crises brightened the eyes, the ex- 
hilaration inspired by action marked the bear- 
ing of those determined spirits who plotted the 
overthrow of the old order of things. 

In that group of twenty-five, composed about 
equally as to number of workmen and so-called 
“intellectuals,’’ one beheld the executive wis- 
dom and force of a party five millions strong. 
There was Benton Ordway, formerly mining 
engineer and prospector and later a multi-mil- 
lionaire who founded the famous Karl Marx 
university of New York which furnished free 
instruction in manual training, technical and 
scientific studies, and all the higher branches 
taught in modern college curricula. This in- 
stitution he generously backed with his millions 
and his abounding satisfaction consisted, to use 
his own phrase, of the “run” he got for his 
money — ninety-nine out of every hundred stu- 
dents becoming loyal Socialists and indefatigable 
workers for the cause. 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


35 


Swale Oldrem was another who had left his 
own economic class to fight the battles of the 
proletariat. * This blond giant of forty-five, of 
Danish ancestry but American born, should by 
all known rules and precedents have been indif- 
ferent to the struggles of the class out of which 
his father had been hoisted by an erratic turn 
of fortune that sent skyward the value of certain 
supposedly worthless tracts of Western realty. 
But Swale didn’t go by rule. He was a born 
revolutionist — less, perhaps, from a desire to as- 
sist those who made no effort to assist them- 
selves than from an innate hatred of oppression, 
injustice and tyranny. He particularly despised 
the insufferable cant and hypocrisy by which, in 
the name of morality, religion and the law, the 
specially privileged few held in check, robbed 
and exploited the many. The ethical code that 
dealt out extravagant punishment to the petty 
offender and merely nominal punishment to the 
wholesale criminal was not at all to his liking. 
Wherefore his militant socialism. 

Then there was Hank Glidden, at one time 
president of the American Federation of Labor. 
He was by treachery sent to join the Down-and- 
Out club, but he got his political bearings through 
that upheaval and had since fought the battles 
of his class from the only class-conscious plat- 


36 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


form. It was a cold day for the capitalistic 
crowd when they scalped Hank. His personal 
popularity from coast to coast and intimate knowl- 
edge of the ropes enabled him to disillusion many 
thousands of trades unionists who once were ac- 
customed to sit up nights and worry about poli- 
tics getting into the unions. 

Ollie Preston was another strategist of the 
first magnitude. He was a college professor who 
parted his hair in the middle, and threw a fit 
if the creases in his trousers were the millionth 
part of an inch out of plumb, but he was a 
Johnny-on-the-spot with the unshrinkable goods. 
Under the nom de plume of ‘‘Maxim’’ he was 
a tireless and most prolific writer of the stuff 
that capitalistic nightmares are made of, turning 
out plays, novels, poems, squibs and broadsides 
with an energy that was remarkable. College 
men, editors and critics recognized the quality 
of those savage attacks upon a tottering system 
and racked their memories for some chance clew 
to the writer; and many an innocent alumnus 
who had at some unguarded moment in his 
career exhibited recondite symptoms of the divine 
afflatus was compelled to furnish an alibi. But 
the presses worked on and the identity of the 
writer was as baffling a mystery as ever. 

Herbert Johnson, the millionaire foundryman. 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


37 


who for twenty years had conducted his enor- 
mous business on the co-operative plan; Pem- 
broke George, once a famous Populist editor; 
Vance Roeder, handy man, detective and spy; 
Cash Humboldt, veteran organizer and orator; 
Conway Dunham, army and navy propagandist;. 
Paul Devoe, astronomer, and David (otherwise 
‘‘Happy”) Hooligan, the Catholic priest un- 
frocked for “pernicious activity,” politically and 
in disobedience of papal authority: were among 
the assembled strategists. 

The chairman rapped for order. “The only 
unfinished business before this meeting is the 
election of a permanent president of our board 
of strategy,” he said. “Comrade Tempest has 
been informed of his unanimous nomination to 
the highest office in the gift of the party; he is 
present and can speak for himself. Mr. Tempest, 
the board awaits your pleasure.” 

Slowly, with a thousand memories of the 
past and a thousand hopes for the future crowd- 
ing to the front, the nominee drew off his great- 
coat, threw it over a chair and advanced to 
the low platform. 

“Mr. Chairman and Comrades of the Revolu- 
tion,” he said, “I thank you for this signal honor 
which, from now until the inauguration of the 
co-operative commonwealth and the popular elec- 


38 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


tion of a new strategy board confers upon the 
recipient the actual executive and administra- 
tive duties of this mighty nation of one hun- 
dred million people; for the powerless puppet 
who sits in Washington, blind leader of a blinded 
and fatuous multitude, his rudderless ship of 
state a plaything of the tides, is only the counter- 
feit of authority. 

“A few short years ago our party was the 
butt and scorn of bourgeois traffickers and poli- 
ticians. Today with fear and trembling they 
hug their idols in the market-place ; and tomor- 
row is house-cleaning day. 

'‘Standing tonight on the boundary line which 
separates the old order of society, with its cruel 
philosophy that decreed that the few should 
wax powerful by exploiting the many, and the 
new order which discriminates against none and 
uplifts all ; and while appreciating the tremendous 
responsibility involved in the forcible expropria- 
tion of the national wealth; I am nevertheless 
dominated by one devouring passion and only 
one — a boundless elation, a joy unspeakable! 

“For the first time in our history the Socialists 
of America are in a position to seize the reins 
of government and we should be cravens indeed 
were we to permit the opportunity to find us 
wavering in resolution. If no man may read 


• WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


39 


the future, if the clouds behind which the des- 
tiny of the earth-race is hidden from our view 
are dark and full of unimaginable portent — all 
w>e can say is that the past has not been so rose- 
strewn nor is the present so bright with promise 
that we’ should on that account prolong the 
hideous force of capitalistic rule. 

‘'If the theory of Socialism be the dream of 
intellectuals, must it therefore be impractical? 
We know what industrial competition is — it is 
war; and war is exactly what a soldier not 
unknown to fame said it was. How many 
myriads of victims this useless and unnatural 
competitive warfare has claimed in bygone cen- 
turies none can say. Enough that ours is the 
task of staying the juggernaut of commercialism 
and that the hour approaches. 

“Comrades, there have been moments in his- 
tory when whole nations have been entranced 
by the glittering and specious promise of some 
royal alchemist or some political mountebank. 
The populace sang, wept, prayed and shouted 
for joy — and the days ran into weeks and the 
veeks dragged into months and the light of hope 
faded out of their eyes and they discovered 
that human promises were brittle, that earthly 
paradise was as distant as before. But I declare 
to you in all seriousness that the moment the 


40 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


co-operative commonwealth is inaugurated in the 
United States — that moment the whole of Chris- 
tendom and the whole of heathendom can take 
a day off and rejoice. There will be no more 
wars of conquest nor the wiping out of weak 
nations just because they are weak and defense- 
less. We will attend to all that. Do you realize 
that we can, when we get fairly under way, turn 
out at least two monster battleships for every 
day in the year!. We could put a million men 
at the task, if need be, or twice that number. 
What is the obvious result? Why, every nation 
on the face of the globe is driven, willy nilly, 
into the camp of Socialism. And what then? 
Well, to my mind, there would then be about 
as much need for warships as there would for 
warts or the measles. Their purpose having 
been accomplished we could melt them up into 
bridges, structural iron and frying pans. 

'‘So much for the international aspect of the 
situation. Coming back to our own problems, 
I have always been amused at the persistency 
and stress with which nearly all Socialists harp 
on the bread-and-butter side of the question. 
Now, please do not stare at me as if I were 
a freak from Mars or from some other out-of- 
the-way region. I understand perfectly well the 
meaning of economic determinism, the material- 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


41 


istic conception of history, so indissolubly bound 
and interwoven with the fabric of our philosophy. 
So far from having any quarrel with that in- 
terpretation I recognize it as the absolutely cor- 
rect one and so declare it; but what I cannot 
understand is why so many of the comrades 
seem to imagine that the co-operative common- 
wealth will have fulfilled its beneficent mission 
when, at a trifling expenditure of labor, each 
inhabitant thereof shall have been provided daily 
with three — or more if he wants them — square 
meals of the best food that the earth affords, 
together with certain other merely personal com- 
forts. These things are the incidents, not the 
ends, of Socialism. Of course everybody will 
have the best that this green old planet affords, 
and that is far more than even the rich can have 
nowadays, because nobody is trying to produce 
the best; whereas under co-operation everything 
will be produced under expert supervision and 
cheapness, adulteration and inferiority will be 
undreamed of. 

“I need not at this time dwell upon the vast 
changes and improvements inevitably destined 
to follow the change of system further thanjto 
say that whereas man has hitherto confined his 
efforts (and with conspicuous success, jt must 
be ct)nfessed) to turning this fair domain into 


42 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


the very abomination of desolation, the task of 
the co-operative commonwealth is plainly to undo 
the havoc, as far as may be, and re-create on a 
scale of grandeur and gorgeousness unthought 
of by, because impossible to, competitive socie- 
ties. 

‘Transportation problems are first in impor- 
tance after the daily necessities of the people 
shall have been provided for and I trust you 
will not consider me hopelesssly utopian when 
I declare it not only possible, but necessary, that 
within the next few years our two oceans be 
joined by several four-track transcontinental lines 
of railroad, straight as a die, practically at sea 
level grade the entire distance, and having a 
speed of four or five hundred miles an hour. 
This can be done ; and what can be done should 
and will be done. 

“Of scarcely secondary importance are our 
highways, millions of miles of which must be 
built — of solid masonry, below the frost-line, in- 
destructible as the granite hills — at once utili- 
tarian in the highest degree, of superlative beauty 
and a lasting monument to the days when things 
are doing. 

“The cities and towns of our country do not 
conform to the standard of excellence character- 
istic of the needs and fulfilling the aspirations 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


43 


of a free and altruistic people. It will be easier 
to destroy and rebuild than to patch up present 
defects. Therefore their destruction would seem 
advisable. 

^‘Our rivers and harbors, mountains, forests, 
parkways, lakes and historic beauty spots will 
all be treated on a scale of magnificence befit- 
ting the Co-operative Commonwealth of America ; 
and I will further say that while it may sound 
like the boast of an idle dreamer to claim that 
this far-reaching economic upheaval and expro- 
priation of the national resources can be effected 
without the shedding of innocent blood, I am 
sure there need be no carnival of slaughter to 
handicap our programme or to rest accusingly 
upon those of us who are afflicted with what 
may be called the orthodox conscience, for want 
of a more descriptive term. Those who have 
no dangerous weapons can use none, and it 
should be our first duty to assemble and guard, 
or else destroy, all public and private military 
stores, small arms and equipment that we cannot 
use. This policy should be general. 

‘Tn conclusion, and thanking you for your at- 
tention, I announce myself ready to - lead or 
follow during the crucial reorganization days 
ahead. If you are still determined to honor 
me with the presidency of this board I will 


44 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


accept the post, relying on you and a clear- 
headed rank and file to pull me through — always 
subject to my resignation should the time come 
when we can no longer agree. I appreciate the 
regard of the comrades, the flattering compli- 
ment to my self-esteem — I must confess to a 
certain degree of vanity — and I also appreciate 
the responsibility of a leadership which carries 
with it not only -the hostility of three-fourths 
of our own population, but the fierce antagonisrri 
of all the governments of the world, which will 
immediately head in. our direction their most 
formidable battleships and the pick of their 
fighting legions. And the last word of their 
divine rulers as these armored and turreted 
dogs of war gather, like harpies, for the feast 
of the Occident, will be the short and savage 
command, snarled from throats hoarse with rage, 
'Eat ’em up, Jack!’ From all this notoriety 
of chieftainship I do not retreat and toward it 
I do not advance. If any member of the execu- 
tive board desires this sinecure now is his time 
to speak. If you are still unanimous I will serve 
you with the best that in me lies.” 

With a muffled roar Swale Oldrem, the “Great 
Dane,” sprang to his feet, and, congratulating 
the board, the cause, himself and everybody else, 
gripped the hand of the new president and the 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


45 


rest of the board followed suit. 

An hour of discussion followed during which 
the question of tactics was threshed over, reports 
of local and field secretaries compared, a new 
cypher code examined and adopted and the sug- 
gestions of the president listened to. Incidentally 
the first of May was the time set for the over- 
throw of the capitalistic regime and all realized 
that the intervening weeks would be busy ones, 
all too short in fact, for the enormous amount 
of work devolving upon the strategy board. 

It was midnight when the meeting broke up, 
the comrades by twos and threes making their 
way back down 'town as best they might. 


CHAPTER III. 


It was the middle of April and only two 
weeks more of the competitive whirlpool re- 
mained for the historical republic of the United 
States. As she had in bygone days set the ex- 
ample for France and other older and younger 
nations by establishing a government free from 
many of the abuses of royalty-ridden countries, 
so now she was again to blaze the trail for de- 
mocracy the world over although, paradox of 
paradoxes! she would have vehemently* and in- 
credulously flouted the soft impeachment. 

On the streets and in the marts of metropoli- 
tan traffic men were greedily and fatuously 
chasing the almighty dollar, as of yore, osten- 
sibly to solve the perplexing problem of exis- 
tence in an unkind world, but actually and in- 
evitably, in accordance with economic law, to 
swell to still more unwieldly proportions for- 
tunes already colossally vast. Crime was ram- 
pant, widespread and ever on the increase ; hos- 
pitals and jails were full to overflowing; on the 
faces of aimless armies of the unemployed, of 
the dissolute idle, of the disinherited and chron- 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


47 


ic slum dwellers, of the hordes of native toilers 
displaced by cheaper foreign populations and 
by child-labor, of the throngs that waited in 
front of employment offices, municipal and pri- 
vate: there rested a sullen apathy not unmixed 
with dull wonder that such things could be. 
And, as if bent upon playing into the hands of 
the revolutionists, albeit unconsciously, scores 
of large manufacturers, east and west, having 
run their plants day and night all winter and for 
no apparent reason except to convince themselves 
and others that the country was extremely 
prosperous, and being confronted in the spring 
with huge surplus stocks in the warehouses, a 
falling market and but little demand, closed 
their factory doors with a bang and emulated 
the example of the renowned Mr. Micawber 
— thus adding to the general feeling of inse- 
curity and discontent and causing the prosper- 
ity doctors to work overtime prescribing and 
ladling out their precious dope to a public al- 
ready sick and growing sicker as the days wore 
on. 

Only that very week in the national House 
a congressman had introduced a bill which au- 
thorized the government to commence at once 
the construction of a military road along the 
Atlantic seaboard, provisions being made for 


48 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


the employment of a hundred thousand men ; 
arid another member of the same body had 
fathered a measure in behalf of the idle multi- 
tudes which committed the government to the 
innovation of building five hundred miles of 
railroad as an experiment in national owner- 
ship, the road to be extended at the option of 
Congress ; and still another representative, 
wise in his generation, with rolling eyes and 
foaming jaws (he probably had a piece of soap 
concealed in his mouth) attempted to manufac- 
ture a sentiment in favor of war — instant, to 
the death and no quarter asked nor given — just 
because some unimportant functionary in one 
of the South American republics, when in his 
cups and in keeping with a perennial custom of 
theirs, had called us a nation of Yankee pigs. 
But all these relief measures fell flat and noth- 
ing was done. But still the “Yankee pigs’’ pur- 
sued without ceasing the illusive Yankee dol- 
lar, the kings of frenzied finance continued to 
play their time-honored game of bluff with no- 
body audacious enough to call their hands — 
and the gaunt spectre of poverty looked in at 
the windows of a million gloomy homes. 

* * 5{J ^ 

Just off Broadway, some blocks south of 
Canal street, was the old established printing 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


49 


house of Trainor and Sons. It occupied the en- 
tire four floors and basement of the large brick 
building with the exception of a haberdashery 
which flaunted its wares in a narrow room on 
the ground floor, on the side nearest to Broad- 
way, and running the whole length of the 
building. The elder Trainor, founder of the 
business, had been dead some years and hiS 
two sons continued to run the plant until Al- 
fred was killed in a western train wreck leav- 
ing Harry, the younger brother, sole proprie- 
tor. This young man, being a practical printer, 
as had been his father and brother, had once 
upon a time sat at the keyboard of a Mergen- 
thaler machine and pounded out so many pages 
of a standard and voluminous work on Social- 
ism that the ethics and the philosophy of the 
under-dog had got into his blood and thence- 
forth he was one of the elect, or, as Fra Elber- 
tus would probably put it, vibrated to the same 
keynote. From all which it came about that 
the Socialist Strategy Board, casting to wind- 
ward for a safe and quiet anchorage for its 
headquarters, had selected this innocent ap- 
pearing spot which was, in the hopelessly cock- 
neyized slang of one enthusiastic comrade, a 
printer who worked on the premises, “a bloom- 
in’ peach of a plaice for a Socialist I’yout.” 


50 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


Here, in one corner of the big basement, par- 
titioned off from the ponderous presses and 
having its own private entrance from the haber- 
dashery which was, of course, run by Social- 
ists, the board could meet secure from interrup- 
tion and plan the final moves before springing 
the Socialist coup d’etat. All about was the 
roar and jar of machinery, the hammering of 
metal forms on the floor above, the tramp of 
many feet, the rumbling of passing trucks. The 
members could by crowding close together 
hear themselves; but by no possibility could 
anybody else hear them and the public charac- 
ter of the establishment, the large number of 
employees, the many patrons and strangers 
constantly coming and going, together with its 
numerous entrances and exits, all contributed 
to render the location ideal for the purpose. 
But the board was taking no chances on a 
fiasco or the premature forcing of its hand. 
Not only was every printer who worked on the 
lower floors a comrade, but the policeman on 
that beat was a Socialist and two trusty “spot- 
ters” besides had the building under constant 
surveillance, ready to give instant warning of 
any suspicious move on the part of the au- 
thorities. 

However, nothing occurred to disturb their 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


51 


possession, while uniformly gratifying reports 
by the scouts and party workers continued to 
pour in from north, east, south and west. So 
strongly organized was the party where it most 
needed strength, that is, among the erstwhile 
flunkeys of capitalism — in the national capital, 
in all the large cities, on railroad, steamship 
and other transportation lines, in the army and 
navy, in the big telegraph and telephone com- 
panies and so-called public service corpora- 
tions, — that it seemed for once that all the gods 
were piking for the cause of the proletariat, al- 
though that innocent casus belli, the said pro- 
letariat himself, w^as never farther away from, if 
never nearer to, accepting the principles of So- 
cialism than he was in the swiftly passing days 
that presaged the doom of capitalism. 

For once plutocracy had run up against 
something that money wouldn’t buy. Out of the 
five million Socialists in the United States there 
were at least one hundred thousand who knew, 
who necessarily had to know, almost as much 
about the plans for the revolution as the strat- 
egy board itself, because upon these trusted 
lieutenants would fall the task, in every nook 
and corner of the republic, of deliberately pre- 
cipitating chaos and then of intelligently and 
masterfully restoring order in the shortest pos- 


52 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


sible time. To insure the country against need- 
less suffering and to provide for simultaneous 
and decisive action it was necessary for the 
strategy board, weeks and months in advance 
of the contemplated coup, to communicate its 
tactics in detail and personally or by delegate 
to every comrade deputized for local leader- 
ship. And so unerring was the judgment of 
the board and its several executive branches 
that not one of all those numerous deputies had 
betrayed his cause although wealth beyond the 
dream of avarice could have been his for the 
treachery. And this is not all. Many hundred 
thousands besides these deputies awaited with 
longing eyes and hopeful hearts the hour of 
their economic freedom which, by infallible evi- 
dence, they knew was drawing near though they 
could not with certainty declare the psycholog- 
ical moment. But if any babbling tongue, un- 
loosed by frequent mugs of foaming beer, 
wagged unguardedly it was by the enemy cred- 
ited to the idle vaporings of an overheated im- 
agination. 

One afternoon President Tempest was alone 
at headquarters. It was nearly four o’clock and 
he had just told his secretary, a young fellow 
named Burbank, that he might go out on 
Broadway and cool his heels for an hqur. The 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


53 


majority of. the board was scattered around 
town, some members were out of town and four 
or five were on a still hunt in the West and 
South. According to the latest developments 
everything was shaping up beautifully. As he 
sat at his desk smoking, and for the hundredth 
time trying to imagine some contingency for 
which the collective wisdom of the board had not 
provided the private door was opened and in 
sauntered Vic Mercereau, very handsome, very 
swagger, and looking, for all the world, as if 
he had just stepped out of some Fifth avenue 
fashion plate instead of having just arrived 
from a trip which had taken him three-quarters 
around the world and back. 

‘^Comment ce va?” inquired the young man, 
nonchalantly, but the iron grip of his slender 
fingers belied his indifferent air as his leader 
arose and welcomed him with a heartiness that 
left nothing to be desired. 

“Finely, Vic, old boy ! Everything seems to 
be cut and dried to order. And you? — sit down 
and tell me all about it — heaven knows how 
soon somebody’ll come poking in. A half hour 
now is worth a half day with every Tom, Dick 
and Harry on the board butting in and inter- 
rupting.” 

“Well,” said Mercereau, “all the comrades 


54 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


across the pond send fraternal greetings and 
best wishes for our success, of course. Some 
of the leaders I may describe as jubilant, others 
lukewarm and still others cold as a polar ice- 
berg, professing, by some clairvoyance, which I 
did not even try to fathom, to see in our at- 
tempt to seize evolution by the horns and force 
her gait nothing but catastrophic failure and 
a windup in disaster which will set back a thou- 
sand years the cause of international Socialism. 
It’s all according to the viewpoint. However, 
I didn’t consider it necessary to set forth all the 
advantages possessed by the comrades over 
here ; and I can see a reason for their pessi- 
mism is they base their arguments upon condi- 
tions as they exist in Europe today. I told 
them, though, to allow something for Yankee 
ingenuity, to keep cool, and above all, to keep 
Socialists off any warships leaving Europe to 
take a hand in the scrimmage. Of course all 
known or suspected Socialists would be left be- 
hind, anyway; but I wanted to make sure that 
none of the comrades paid his respects to Davy 
Jones through my neglect to give him fair warn- 
ing. 

“What did Castleman say?” 

“Oh, he and his precious Committee of Ten 
were rather skittish at first of our ability to de- 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


55 


liver the goods, but later they warmed up to the 
idea and wanted to send over by steamer a few 
thousand huskies to help us put down the 
plutes. I thanked them with becoming effu- 
siveness, informed them we had the situation 
well in hand and in return for their kindness 
promised that when we had the co-operative 
commonwealth in good running order we’d 
reciprocate by landing on British soil two hun- 
dred thousand Socialistic nurses, if the honorable 
committee thought it would take that many, to 
subdue and sit on Edward VII. while the essence 
of democracy was being administered to him in 
good old fashioned allopathic doses.’’ 

“By the Triangular Trinity! that’s what we 
will,” murmured President Bill, approvingly. 
“But what did Meyerhoff think, Victor, and 
what headway is the cause making in the Father- 
.land?” 

“I should say it was a case of nip and tuck 
between the German comrades and their crazy 
war-lord, with the odds slightly favoring divine 
rights. The comrades have the numbers and 
the ballots, but the war-lord has the church, the 
state and the bullets — not to mention the count- 
ing of the ballots which he does by an arithmetic 
of his own. This is the superficial view. Look- 
ing beneath the surface one finds confidence, 


56 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


courage, solidarity. The army is fifty per cent, 
socialized, the foundations of class government 
are crumbling and soon the reveille of the new 
order will awaken the bourgeoisie to the fact that 
their rule is over.” 

“Did you go to St. Petersburg?” 

“No; I met Reven^ki at Geneva. Say-, Bill, 
those Russians can give us cards and spades 
when it comes to self-abnegation, martyrdom 
and such things. The sacrifices they make, the 
chances they take, are something appalling. We 
couldn’t do that sort of thing over here. It’s in 
the Russian make-up to perform spectacular, 
dare-devil feats. For myself, while I do not hold 
that a live coward is necessarily better than a dead 
hero, I do contend that a live hero is worth more, 
whether to himself or a given cause, than either 
or both the others. Well, I made Revenski 
insanely happy by disclosing to him the formula 
of sizmos, and if the world doesn’t soon read of 
the damnedest popping, rocking, crashing and 
splintering ever recorded in the history of the 
Romanoff or any other dynasty you can call me 
a pipe-hitter. Every paper I pick up I expect 
to read that the Little Father, accompanied by 
his palace, his royal retinue of flunkies, minis- 
ters, grand viziers, plenipotentiaries, Cossacks 
and other impedimenta, have set off on a sudden. 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


57 


if not entirely unexpected, journey 'to the planet 
Mars.” 

“Here’s hoping he’ll have a pleasant trip,” 
piped in the president. 

“The Italian comrades were transported to the 
seventh heaven of delight and wanted to show 
their sympathy the first of May by blowing 'up 
the Quirinal, scuttling warships in the harbor, 
red fire, parades, incendiary speeches and I don’t 
know what other crazy antics. I entreated them 
to cut it all out, pledging them the assistance of 
the new commonwealth, and attempted to explain 
the far-reaching consequences our revolution 
would have upon the present alignment of world- 
powers. They were too excited, I fear, to ap- 
preciate my brand of logic, but they have doubt- 
less come back to earth by this time.” 

Then the talk shifted over to Japan where, 
although the government was semi-Socialistic, 
that political half-and-half was about as strong 
a tonic as the stomachs of the Samurai lords 
could bear. Anything more Socialistic than that 
— that is to say, more Marxian — had to thrive, 
if thrive at all it could, under the cover of 
darkness and under imperial proscription. 

They were discussing the situation in France, 
the probable effect of the Separation act and 
other matters, when Ollie Preston, Cash Hum- 


58 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


boldt and '‘Happy” Hooligan came in. After 
warmly greeting Mercereau, who as deputy-at- 
large had been abroad since the first of the year, 
the new comrades joined in the talkfest. 

“I’m gratified to observe that the French have 
at last knocked out Napoleon’s old Concordat,” 
remarked Hooligan, the ex-priest. Ever since 
his falling out with Rome and his subsequent 
excommunication, accompanied by a string of 
anathema a mile long, the whilom priest had 
been a vigorous and bitter assailant of the church, 
its authority and everything bearing the sac- 
erdotal brand. 

“Give ’em hell, Happy,” encouraged Hum- 
boldt, lighting a cigar and settling back in his 
chair for a season of solid comfort. 

“Next to Americans,” went on Hooligan, “the 
French people are the easiest marks in the world. 
I can’t conceive of a time when they weren’t 
being bled, bilked, soaked, hamstrung or horn- 
swoggled by something or somebody. If it 
wasn’t the state it was the church; if it wasn’t 
the church it was the aristocracy; and when it 
was neither of these it was a Law springing a 
South Sea bubble on them or a De Lesseps going 
after their buried hoards. They always were 
good things and their latest break is the worst 
of the lot. What d’yqu think of Russian bonds 


W^HEN THINGS WERE DOING 


59 


for a good safe investment? Well, well — it 
doesn’t matter, so far as the money is con- 
cerned — money will soon be relegated to the 
limbo of forgotten things ; but superstition and 
credulity cannot be so easily put away.” 

‘‘Superstitution !” cried Humboldt, ‘"what’s the 
matter with you, Happy? Don’t you know the 
French are the most atheistic and up-to-date 
people on earth?” 

“I speak not of Parisians and intellectuals,” 
said the ex-priest, “but of the peasantry and arti- 
sans who make up the bulk of the population — 
who are the real France.” 

“No excuse for them,” declared Humboldt, 
“didn’t they have their Voltaire?” 

“Good Lord !” said Mercereau, “they don’t 
read Voltaire — ^the priests would flay ’em alive.” 

“They wouldn’t do anything else,” asserted 
Hooligan, “know how it is myself.” 

“No more do they read Diderot!” chimed in 
Preston ; “we’re apt to think that ours is the only 
practical and materialistic age, but wasn’t it 
Diderot who, nearly two centuries ago, talked 
about hanging the last king with a rope made 
from the bowels of ‘the last priest ?” 

“Search me,” said Humboldt, “but if it was I 
herewith pronounce Diderot the real, unadulter- 
ated goose-quill.” 


60 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


“I’m afraid,” pursued Hooligan, sardonically, 
“that all this agitation and persecution of the 
church over there will cause a slump in ecclesi- 
astical real estate.” 

“On the contrary,” asserted President Bill, “I 
predict a rise if the revolutionary comrades 
become acquainted with the peculiar leavening 
properties of sixmos/’ 

The room began to fill with board members 
and further talk along this line was broken off. 
Benton Ordway dropped in for his daily confab 
over the outlook. He was accompanied by three 
pupils of Marx university, the institution that 
devoured so much of his spare pocket money 
and which it was his boast never received any 
but capitalists and never turned out any but 
Socialists. These youngsters were tall, slender, 
well set up students who carried themselves like 
midshipmen and were probably sixteen to eigh- 
teen years of age. That they considered them- 
selves extraordinarily honored by being thus 
introduced to the headquarters of the strategy 
board was evidenced by their proud and happy 
bearing. 

“Aha !” thundered Hooligan in tragic tones, 
“whom have we here — spies?” 

The students merely glanced inquiringly at 
their patron. 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


()1 


“These young gentlemen are friends of mine, 
pupils of Marx university,” said Ordway, “and 
I will undertake to answer for their circumspec- 
tion and otherwise decorous behavior.” 

“So — ” said the ex-priest with twinkling eyes 
and dropping his menacing air, “students of 
Marx university, eh? That is excellent. Now, 
young gentlemen, tell me — I v/ould fain put your 
instruction to the test — tell me when is a re- 
public not a republic?” 

Swift as a liner off the bat came the answer 
from the student nearest him : “About next week, 
I should fancy.” 

“Good!” roared Hooligan, “you are a credit 
to your alma mater. Next — what do you say, 
young man?” 

Thus appealed to, the second lad without hesi- 
. tation shot this one out : “A republic is not a 
republic when it’s a co-operative commonwealth.” 

“Hear, hear!” cried the delighted Irishman. 
“Now, sir, it’s your turn.” 

I The third lad redeemed himself with : “A 
1 republic cannot be considered a republic when it 
' is a Standard Oilgarchy.” 

, “By heavens! Ordway, that school for scan- 
! dal of yours is worth the money,” declared Hooli- 
i gan, and he was turning away to greet one 
of the members who had just come in. But 


62 WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 

he was not to escape so easily. It was his turn 
to dance on the gridiron for, with one accord 
and not to be denied, three vigorous young 
throats demanded, “What is the answer ?’’ 

“Oh, pish, tush!” he complained querulously, 
dropping unconsciously into the brogue, “can’t 
ye lave an old man be? ’Twas only an extimpo- 
raneous idea that popped into me head and anny 
wan o’ye has got me beaten by a mile. Howiver, 
the essence of me cogitation was that a republic 
was no longer a republic when the chief re- 
publicans and stand-patters descinded to the hard 
lines of havin’ to go to work for a livin’.” And 
to the shrill whistling that none but lusty under- 
graduates can execute to perfection and the tu- 
multuous stamping of three noisy pairs of feet, 
Hooligan beat an undignified retreat. 

Singly, by twos and threes, the members strag- 
gled in until headquarters swarmed with strate- 
gists. By eight o’clock, when the president and 
Mercereau returned from dinner, there were 
nearly eighty assembled out of a total of a hun- : 
dred and the scene resembled a metropolitan 'j 
ward-room the night before election. They stood \ 
or were seated in groups of half a dozen or more, ] 
animatedly talking, laughing, shouting, gesticu- j 
lating, trying to make themselves understood ; 
above the racket within and the din and jar of 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


63 


machinery without. It was Saturday night, the 
27th, and was the last general meeting of the 
board, the most of whom had planned to leave 
town by late trains that night or early ones Sunday 
morning en route for their several posts of duty 
in distant and nearby states. A stranger would 
have taken them for a. lodge of some fraternal 
order having a grand reunion and pow-wow in- 
stead of a band of determined conspirators plot- 
ting to overthrow, inside of a week, one of the 
putatively strongest governments on the face 
of the earth. But the hour for doubts and fears 
had gone by, had given place to confidence. 
Organization, tireless effort, an almost fanatic 
zeal for the cause had surmounted every diffi- 
culty, so far as human judgment could fore- 
cast, and nothing remained but to await with 
hopeful hearts the ripening of the fateful hour 
for action. Why should not they be jubilant? 
And the undercurrent of responsibility inevitably 
pervading momentous undertakings was evi- 
denced by the momentary sadness, the hush 
that fell upon the group when from time to 
time some comrade, compelled to take a train 
for the West or South, made the rounds with 
sobered countenance saying his adios until they 
should meet again under the flag of the new 
commonwealth. 


64 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


It was past 9 :30 when the telephone boy rushed 
over to the president and whispered something 
in his ear. 

“Get down to Park Row as quickly as you can 
and hurry back the minute the papers are on 
the street/' directed the president, and the boy 
set off on his errand. 

“What’s up, Bill?” inquired Mercereau, mak- 
'ng his way across the room. 

“They say Russia has gone up. The rumor 
is just in and the papers are running off an 
extra.” 

“A-a-ah!” said Mercereau. It was probably 
twenty minutes before the boy came back with 
the extra. The president picked up a mega- 
phone and, while the board crowded around as 
closely as they conveniently could, read in his 
sonorous voice the following cable despatch: 

St. Petersburg, April 27th — The long ex- 
pected revolution has burst with unpar- 
alleled fury over the Russian empire. The 
royal palace of Tsarskoe-Selo, apparently 
dynamited in a hundred places at once, lies 
a hopeless mass of ruins which the flames, 
fanned by a furious wind, are devouring. 
The czar, the czarina, the heir apparent and 
the royal princesses, the premier and several 
other cabinet ministers, together with at 
least two hundred officers, guards and pal- 
ace attendants, are all reported buried in 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


Gj 


the ruins. In the city anarchy, pandemo- 
nium and terrorism reign unchecked and 
property holders are fleeing for their lives. 
Every nearby fort, arsenal, barracks or 
other military stronghold has been blown 
up or captured by the Reds ; and thou- 
sands of soldiers, Cossacks, municipal 
guards, police, including the “Emperor’s 
Own” household regiment, have been 
slaughtered like oxen in the shambles. 

And the saturnalia has only commenced. 
With deafening crashes, comparable to 
nothing but the prophetic Day of Judg- 
ment, with detonations that shake the 
whole city and its suburbs public buildings, 
storehouses and the homes of the rich are 
being projected into the air with volcanic 
force, the debris raining over inconceivable 
areas, killing and maiming thousands of 
people, including many of the frenzied ter- 
rorists themselves. 

As if to add to the horror of the situa- 
tion fires have broken out in numerous 
places and this alone, coupled with burst- 
ing water mains and the disorganization of 
the fire department, assures the doom of 
the ancient capital on the Neva. 

These are but incidents; in the wide- 
spread wrack and ruin the stoutest hearts 
are appalled and reason totters on her 
throne. Prison doors are being burst 
open everywhere and hordes of desperate 
criminals, mingling with the riff-raff of the 
capital, vandals, ghouls, hoodlums, and all 


6G 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


the forces of anarchy, are surging in living 
streams through the business section, loot- 
ing banks, stores, wineries and vodka 
shops, pillaging, destroying, wrecking all 
before them without let or hindrance. 

From Moscow, Odessa, Warsaw and nu- 
merous other large cities there came, an 
hour ago, frantic appeals for aid ; but the 
wires have been cut and 

The abrupt ending of the despatch indicated 
that the same fate had befallen the operator’s 
own wire. 

The reading of the cablegram was followed 
by no demonstration on the part of the com- 
rades who were themselves so soon to kindle 
the fires of revolution. 

Vic Mercereau listened to the reading as one 
in a dream. He stood motionless, erect, head 
thrown back, his dark eyes straining with a 
fixedness that was almost hypnotic — as if he 
had annihilated distance and was gazing straight 
into that wretched northland whose spectacular 
downfall he had, at least, been instrumental in 
hastening. 

The president walked over and tapped him 
lightly on the shoulder. “Come out of it,” he 
advised ; “what do you think ?” 

Mercereau shook himself back to earth with 
an effort. 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


67 


“Bill, old man,” he said, “when tyrants sow 
the wind they should not be inordinately dis- 
appointed if they reap the whirlwind.” 


CHAPTER IV. 


One — two — three — four — five — six — seven 
— eight — nine — ten — eleven — twelve ! It was the 
first of May. Throughout the length and breadth 
of 'the republic one man in every four was alert 
and on the move as the clocks in the towers 
finished striking the hour , of midnight. In all 
the metropolitan centers, in the many thousand 
cities, towns, villages and hamlets, wherever 
there was a law and a political machine to en- 
force it, from the District of Columbia to the re- 
motest frontier collection of shanties — the 
darkness of early morning was vibrant with the 
tread of armed men and the law, as people had 
known it,- was declared null and void. And as 
the old law had been backed by force of arms 
whenever and wherever opposition had shown 
its teeth, whether in local settlement, township, 
or nation at large: so, in like manner, was the 
new law. There is no other way and there can 
be no other way until men are unanimous. 
Whether majorities or minorities make the law, 
and whether the same are cruel or wisely benefi- 
cent, the power to enforce them must inhere. 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


69 


else the law becomes a mockery. Laws do not 
enforce themselves. That the new law was as 
yet engraved in the hearts of determined men in- 
stead of being engrossed upon statute books was 
a matter extraneous and immaterial, provided 
its sponsors had the ability to enforce it. And 
the basis of the new law was expropriation: 
of the land and all that was upon it, of all the 
tools of production and distribution and what- 
ever was used in common and necessary for the 
common weal ; and as the old rule in regard to 
eating a hare was to first catch or otherwise 
obtain possession of the hare likewise, in enforc- 
ing the new law of expropriation, it ' became 
necessary to first obtain possession of the req- 
uisite force to effect exproporiation. One in- 
stance in kind may serve as the prototype of 
thousands of others taking place simultaneously, 
or approximately so, all the way from Maine to 
California. 

Not a thousand miles from New York was a 
government fort manned by four companies of 
infantry and their regular complement of of- 
ficers, the whole force being under command of 
a major-general. Something more than a third 
of the enlisted men being Socialists-militant, the 
modus operandi was substantially as follows: 

At a quarter past one o’clock a band of two 


70 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


hundred comrades, Captain Lantz of Marx uni- 
versity military battalion commanding, assembled 
before the massive outer gates and gave the pre- 
arranged signal. Instantly the gates swung 
open admitting them to the grounds and a sen- 
try, his tall form silhouetted against the skyline, 
demanded the countersign. In another moment 
Captain Lantz was interrogating the sentry. 

‘Have you assembled all the available arms, 
ammunition and equipment?” 

“Yes, sir,” was the reply, “all is under guard 
in the gun-room. The machine guns are drawn 
up in front of the barracks, the heavy mounted 
pieces have been relieved of breech-blocks and 
nothing bigger than a pocket knife is loose 
around the fort.” 

“Good — is the guard-house big enough to hold 
all the Philistines?” 

“Yes, sir, easily.” 

“Then,” said the Captain, “in they go. Let 
us proceed.” 

In double column of fours the company 
marched to the front of the barracks where the 
rest of the comrades, one hundred and fifty 
strong, were drawn up under arms. 

The sergeant in command advanced and sa- 
luted. “Captain,” he said, “these are all revo- 
lutionaries and represent our force, with the 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


71 


exception of a dozen or so guarding equipments. 
We await your orders.” 

“You may remain here for the present. I will 
use my men to subdue your fractious messmates.” 

Somebody switched on the lights and while 
a band of armed strangers came tramping into 
the barracks sleeping soldiers sprang from their 
bunks in swarms, only to be met with menacing 
bayonets and even more menacing looks. 

“You are all under arrest,” declared Captain 
Lantz with matter-of-fact directness. “Every 
man will take his clothes and blankets and march 
to the guard-house. Fall in!” 

Taken thus at a disadvantage most of the be- 
wildered soldiers did as they were ordered, the 
few who objected receiving such unkind prods 
that they hastened after the rest. In less time 
than it takes to tell it they were all under guard. 

“Now,” remarked Captain Lantz with satis- 
faction, as he marched his company back to the 
barracks, “I think the enemy is ours.” 

But at this juncture he was made aware that 
all opposition had not yet been squelched. Some 
soldier had eluded his captors in the darkness 
and alarmed the officers who, in all stages of 
neglige, came rushing upon the scene of trouble. 
The doughty general in command, a crimson- 
beaked, corpulent individual of extraordinary 


72 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


ferocity and pomposity of demeanor, led the way 
followed closely by his subalterns. The full 
moon, breaking at that moment through a bank 
of clouds, shed her serene effulgence over the 
scene — the mutinous regulars in their army 
uniforms, the citizen soldiery in their buff-and 
red-trimmed military trappings, the wicked look- 
ing machine guns surrounded by a circle of as 
determined and class-conscious rebels as ever 
balked authority to a standstill. 

One contemptuous glance the general vouch- 
safed the group in strange uniforms. Then he 
roared: “Captain French, unlimber those Gat- 
lings and give this ^ mob what is com- 

ing to it.” 

Before the officer could even attempt to exe- 
cute the order Captain Lantz stepped forward. 

“Your orders, sir,” he said, “are no longer 
of consequence around here. In the name of the 
Co-operative Commonwealth of America I have 
taken possession of this fort. I am in command 
and as two commanders would be — er — super- 
fluous, you may consider yourself at liberty to 
retire.” 

The general’s red face turned to purple, then 
to black, as he wildly clutched at his throat to 
keep his rising gorge from choking him. No 
more helpless and pitiful object in human form 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


73 


could well be imagined. Captain Lantz thought 
he would surely die of apoplexy, but he came 
out of his fit white, haggard, trembling. Then 
he got his second wind and, filling the air with a 
string of oaths that fully attested his proficiency 
in that line of a soldier’s duty, leaped upon his 
subordinate ofiicer and felled him with one blow 
of his powerful fist. 

''Coward!” he panted, "traitor! When I give 
an order I expect to have it obeyed. And you 
(to the troopers) get to your posts and unlimber 
those guns or I’ll have every dog of you court- 
martialed and shot before sunrise.” 

But not a man moved from his tracks. The 
old authority had perished even as it had sprung 
into being— by superior force and superior 
strategy. 

"Sergeant Eberle !” ordered Captain Lantz, 
"You will take half a dozen men and escort these 
officers outside the reservation. Inform them 
that if they return they will be ironed and thrown 
into the guard-house.” 

In a twinkling the officers were surrounded 
and invited to trek it. 

Responding somewhat too slowly to suit the 
sense of propriety of one of the newly-fledged 
soldiers of the commonwealth, the latter ac- 
celerated the retirement in the following expres- 


74 


WHEN. THINGS WERE DOING 


sive, if not strictly military, language. “Skat!” 
he cried, “git out o’ this!” and emphasized his 
advice by pricking with his bayonet the corpu- 
lent general and a too reluctant quartermaster. 

And so, while the stars were paling before the 
onrushing god of day, amid a perfectly sul- 
phurous profanity, reinforced by the fervent 
promise to hang the “whole damned mob of an- 
archists before night,” the old order yielded to 
the new, so far as that garrison was concerned. 
It is a sample of what took place on every other 
government military reservation. 

The militia companies of the several states 
performed miracles of valor in the cause of their 
capitalistic masters. But inasmuch as all their 
armories, consequently their weapons, were in 
the possession of the revolutionists they did it 
with their — that is to say, orally. Such indig- 
nation! Such direful things they promised to 
do to the “canaille.” But then — they were very 
angry and anger is a state of mind that cannot, 
like the laureate’s brook, go on forever. 

Of the navy it may be said that two-thirds of 
the fighting ships, or those in local harbors, fell 
into the hands of the revolutionists through 
strategy and collusion between the Socialists of 
the crews and those on shore. The balance t>f 
the navy, being in foreign waters or at distant in- 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


75 


sular possessions, could not immediately, even if 
so disposed, give any trouble to the new govern- 
ment. 

The rest of the country was not expected to 
offer any serious armed resistance to the So- 
cialistic programme and in that respect it was 
not disappointing. The local deputies, their 
friends and sympathizers, had fhe situation well 
in hand and violence was of rare occurrence. 

The temporary headquarters of the new gov- 
ernment had been established in City Hall, New 
York, and here it was President Tempest, sur- 
rounded by the seething millions of Greater New 
York, while other seething, boiling and distracted 
millions came continuously pouring in from ad- 
jacent states as fast as trains could whirl them, 
took up his duties and responsibilities as chief 
executive of what was nominally the Co-opera- 
tive Commonwealth of America ; but it would, 
perhaps, be more accurate to describe him as 
chief executive of a combination of Bedlam, 
Babel and Gehenna. 

Three lines of military pickets formed a cor- 
don around the building and admission was by 
card. It was not unlike the biblical description 
of the process of getting into the kingdom of 
heaven. Out of the millions who called and were 
anxious to call few were chosen. Personal and 


76 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


private interests were remorselessly turned down 
in the rush of public business; and of the latter 
there seemed to be no end. Through those lines 
of pickets standing like a rock a steady stream 
of comrades filed in and out, bent upon the task 
of bringing order out of chaos. For the service 
of these a thousand automobiles had been im- 
pressed. Occasionally some high functionary 
under the old regime, a governor, legislator, po- 
litical leader or newspaper man, was admitted ; 
and these, if at all inclined to co-operate, were 
advised to go out and harangue the clamorous 
crowds and urge the necessity of relieving the 
down-town congestion by scattering to the parks, 
public halls and theatres, where hundreds of So- 
cialist orators had been detailed to outline the 
immediate programme of the board. 

One of the big newspaper plants in the vicinity 
had been pre-empted and Ollie Preston, assisted 
by half a dozen editorial aides, was running off 
hourly editions, posters, bulletins and hand bills, 
all dealing with some phase of the situation. 

Most of the old police force had been per- 
suaded to patrol their regular beats and these 
were reinforced by three thousand extras, the 
bulk of whom were assigned to the business dis- 
tricts ; and so faithfuly did they perform their 
duty that not a single important instance of 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


77 


breaking and looting occurred. Of course there 
were minor breaks and petty pilferings, but they 
were confined to out-of-the-way corners and. ob- 
scure neighborhoods. 

Central park was the grand overflow, stamp- 
ing ground and mecca toward which the surging 
multitudes were encouraged to set their facQS 
and, wearied, disappointed, finding that neither 
enlightenment, comfort nor any sort of satis- 
faction were to be obtained at headquarters, the 
restless crowds were nothing loath to make their 
way thither. 

As regards the weather the fates had been 
kind indeed. A light south wind lazily rippled 
up the harbor. It faintly rustled the foliage of 
a million trees newly clad in their vernal robes 
and softly fluttered the new flags of the common- 
wealth — a crimson field with bars of blue and 
white and gold. The park was never lovelier. 
Myriads of freshly transplanted flowers were 
blooming in riotous profusion, the carpet of turf 
stretched away cool and inviting, and over all 
from out a cloudless, azure sky the genial rays 
of Old Sol filtered down with grateful warmth. 
Many platforms had been erected at convenient 
intervals and from these a thousand Socialist 
orators took turns in haranguing the hordes 
which, now that Socialism was no longer a 


78 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


theory but was a condition, gave willing and at- 
tentive ear to doctrines they had erstwhile flouted 
as chimerical pipe-dreams hatched by the devil 
himself. 

It was the pre-eminently glorious day of the 
once despised Socialist propagandist and he arose 
to the occasion as naturally and as gracefully 
as a duck takes to water. For years and years, 
through the changing seasons, through fair and 
foul, always in poverty and often in rags, in a ! 
hall when he could get one, but mostly in the 1 

open, in sleet and snow and rain and cold, on j 

street corners from soap boxes and from curb- \ 

ing,. hounded and hustled on by the inexorable * 

vindictiveness of the law, pelted with brickbats f 

and with ancient' eggs, execrated, howled down 
and cursed, the butt of ridicule and the sport of { 
fate — he had patiently told his heartfelt story ^ 
to the wretched and exploited masses, pointing j 
out the better way. And now his hour and his 
reward had come. With bursting heart and ) 
streaming eyes he proudly pointed to the flaunt- • 
ing banners that signaled the dawn of brother- ! 
hood and co-operation and painted in roseate j 
colors the glories of the new social order which 1 
at last made possible of realization the elusive -1 
dream of French revolutionists a hundred years j 
ago — the dream of liberty, equality and frater- ] 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


79 


nity. His words crowded thick and fast upon 
his tongue and sank with hypnotic effect into the 
hearts of spellbound thousands. Standing be- 
side the newly made grave of insensate greed he 
pronounced the requiescat over the system that 
engendered it and pictured an earthly para- 
dise where selfishness, having lost its incentive 
for being, had perished for want of nourishment, 
and to make room for the principle of one for 
all and all for one. 

There were a dozen mammoth refreshment 
booths from which substantial lunches were 
served to many thousand suburbanites, out-of 
town visitors and citizens ; there were baseball 
games and other athletic sports ; half a dozen 
brass bands furnished excellent music, and these 
and other forms of recreation and entertain- 
ment kept the crowds contented and enabled the 
strategy board to work with comparative free- 
dom. 

There were many ludicrous as well as numer- 
ous pathetic scenes to be witnessed about town. 
Here a wild-eyed capitalist, driven to despera- 
tion at the thought of losing his possessions, 
might be seen dashing along in his automobile 
in quest of some other frenzied financier with 
both the courage and the cash with which to 
purchase his equity in some parcel of real es- 


80 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


tate, or maybe it would be railroad or other gilt- 
edge stock that he wished to turn into ready 
cash; but cash seemed to be scarce. It was the 
sort of riches that had taken wings and had 
flown to its nest in strong boxes. 

Two citizens accredited as multi-millionaires 
met on Broadway. This is what they said: 

“Good morning, Mr. A.” 

“Good morning, Mr. B.” 

“It is a lovely morning.” 

“Couldn’t be beat.” 

“The anarchists seem to be having a little 
fun.” 

“Oh — well, we can’t blame them much, as I 
know — all work and no play makes Jack a dull 
boy.” 

“Just so, just so; they’ll be ready to go to 
work tomorrow.” 

“Beyond a doubt. They’ll feel better after 
their little lark. "Yes — by the way, you don’t 
know of anybody that wants to buy a nice little 
block of N. Y. C. — do you?” 

“Can’t say that I do.” 

“Truth is, I’m behind a western road that’s 
doing a lot of tunneling in the Rockies. It 
costs like the mischief and I find myself a little 
short of cash. The money market is so damned 
tight — you know how it is — and though I hate 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


81 


to dispose of this profitable stock I’m going to 
do it, even if I have to sacrifice.” 

'‘You’d better hold on to it if you can. Now, 
if you were fixed like me there might be some 
sense in talking sacrifice. To be honest with you 
I’m in the devil’s own boat and don’t know how 
to turn myself. I’ve simply got to raise some 
cash. If you want to get out of the hole and 
get out quick — let me sell you 10,000 Adams 
Express. Monday night it was up around 300, 
and I’ll let you have it at 200.” 

“Thanks — if I had the money to buy I 
shouldn’t want to sell my ” 

“I’ll make it 150 — ^come; you can’t refuse 
that.” 

“Sorry, but there’s no use in talking — now if 

you wanted to buy ” 

. “But I want to sell.” 

“Exactly. Well, I hope you will find a pur- 
chaser. Good morning.” 

“Good morning.” 

Strange — but everybody seemed to be on 
the bear side of the market; that is, everybody 
who was anybody, and it was a caution to fren- 
zied feenawnce what a really extraordinary lot 
of sellers there were, to be sure, and how 
scarcer than the proverbial hens’ teeth were the 
buyers. But pitzness was goot at der banks, 


82 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


yes — to borrow a phrase from a well-known 
journalistic space- jammer — and the bulk of the 
business was around the paying tellers’ windows. 
From the doors of all the banks whose officials 
had been considerate enough to leave in the 
vaults anything of value (about a third of those 
model fiduciary institutions had been looted by 
their officers before the hour of opening) ex- 
tended a line of humanity whose fear-haunted 
and greed-obsessed countenances it were kinder 
not to describe in detail ; and the lines obstructed 
the sidewalks for many blocks. For half an 
hour or so the order of precedence in the said 
lines of humanity had been determined by the 
law of the survival of the fittest — in a strictly 
pugilistic sense — and the immediately adjacent 
purlieus resembled nothing so much as a sham- 
bles. However, police were hurried to the dif- 
ferent localities and thereafter place- jumping 
was kindly but firmly discouraged. The stoical- 
faced bank clerks peddled out the long green as 
long as any of that precious commodity re- 
mained; then they hung out cards announcing 
suspension and drifted out on the streets to see 
the sights. 

At the corner of Twenty-third street and Fifth 
avenue a policeman was patrolling his beat. He 
was long past his prime and his ruddy, jovial 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


83 


face, crowned by snow-white locks, wore a puz- 
zled expression. A bunch of fifteen or twenty 
students strolled down the avenue, softly chant- 
ing a new revolutionary song that was all the 
rage at the vaudevilles. They halted the old po- 
liceman. 

“What is this new-fangled thing they call 
Socialism?” enquired with great gravity one of 
their number. 

“Faith, I dunno’s I could be explainin’ to ye, 
I dunno, jist phwat it consists of,” answered 
the bluecoat, scratching his head for an idea, 
“but they do be sayin’ that everything ye iver 
done before ye’ll now be afther doin’ directly 
the conthra-ary.” 

“Thank you!” they chorused, and looked 
around for an opportunity to put the new rule 
into practice. An empty low-gear drawn by 
two powerful dapple greys was passing. 

“By jove, don’t you know, fellows, that isn’t 
right,” solemnly announced one of the youths. 
“Those poor horses have been dragging around 
that heavy cart and its lazy driver all too long, 
methinks. It is time they had a ride at the ex- 
pense of the Jehu, who is no Socialist as anyone 
can see.” And while the policeman looked on 
in helpless amazement and the driver outdid him- 
self in profanity, they unhitched the horses, led 


84 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


them onto the truck and started off down the 
avenue, compelling the driver to do his share of 
hauling, the crowds meanwhile yelling encour- 
agement. 

Business was also good with the various ocean 
liners in port. Two or three steamers were 
scheduled to sail the first of May, and several 
more were in the harbor, one having docked 
early that morning. These latter in the ordi- 
nary course of events would have lain over 
several days for passenger bookings and their 
regular complement of cargo. Under the cir- 
cumstances, however, their captains all arranged 
to put to sea the moment they had coaled and 
taken on provisions for the return voyage. The 
proposition looked simpler than it really was, 
since most of the longshoremen were out in 
Central park drinking in with thirsty souls and 
greedy ears the glad tidings that earthly para- 
dise was at hand ; and were engaged in bidding 
a long farewell to suffering, sorrow, poverty and 
human wretchedness in general. But the 
hiatus between misery and paradise was as yet 
of too brief duration for money to have com- 
pletely lost its magical charm over the minds of 
all men; and the promise of what seemed to 
them fabulous sums induced a sufficient num- 
ber of needy ones to turn stevedore. 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


85 


The rumor had somehow leaked out of the 
keeping of the censors that there was to be an ' 
exodus of captains of industry and finance and 
the crush of under-dogs at the various piers was 
terrific. One boat cast off her hawsers at 10 :45 
A. M. She should have hauled in her plank 
two hours earlier. The delay was due to the 
crowd that obstructed the pier, the streets ad- 
jacent, the baggage wagons and even the sacred 
persons of the emigrants themselves. There 
was a painful dearth of police, one lone repre- 
sentative of the force being on hand to sweep 
back the hordes of accumulated and still accu- 
mulating slum dwellers who flocked like buz- 
zards to the feast. His efforts much resembled 
those of a historical lady whose broom proved 
inadequate to the requirements. 

A line of autos, buses and coupes extended 
back from the pier as far as the eye could reach. 
Wagons, drays and vans, loaded to heaven with 
grips, trunks and hand baggage of every de- 
scription, collected until the congestion was 
simply indescribable. The crowd was there first, 
it was there to stay and it had no intention of los- 
ing a drop of the exquisite fun of prolonging 
the agony of the plutes. For the first time in 
his whole wretched existence M. Le^Proletaire 
was it and he enjoyed the novel sensation. 


86 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


Curses, threats, bribes and tears were alike un- 
availing. Every passenger and every baggage 
wagon that got through had to run the gantlet. 

“Say, Mr. Piute, wot’s the matter wit’ this 
country ?” 

“What bank did you loot this morning?” 

“Aw, g’wan ! you gotter guess agin — he’s a 
insurance company president.” 

“How much widders’ and orphans’ boodle 
yer got in that grip-sack?” 

“Git out ! He wouldn’t steal. You c’n see 
that be the looks of ’im.” 

“Ain’t he a lulu?” 

“Ya-as — he’s sure a peach.” 

“Cheer up, old sport! The woist is yet to 
come.” 

And so on ad infinitum, the final request in- 
variably being, “Say, ‘Please let us through.’ ” 
And the answer would as invariably be: “Please 
let us through.” 

Once the fierce Dutch captain of the liner, 
his whiskers bristling like cactus spikes, a brace 
of revolvers to the front, descended upon the 
mob with a roar that could be heard a mile, and, 
spitting a torrent of outlandish oaths from his 
hairy throat, threw his powerful shoulders into 
the breach made by his artillery. His triumph 
was short lived. The crowd closed in. They 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 87 

took his guns away from him and broke them 
over the wheels of a truck. They picked him up 
as if he had been a rag baby and dumped him 
into the river. Then, it being evident that he 
could not swim, they threw him a rope and 
hoisted him back to the pier. All the fight was 
out of him. 

“Don’t monkey some ' more der band wagon 
mit, Dutchy!” he was advised. 

,When the liner at last swung out into the 
channel her first and second cabins and even 
the ^steerage, were packed almost to suffocation 
with New York’s codfish aristocracy of wealth, 
their families, men servants, maid servants, poll 
parrots, poodle dogs and what treasure trove 
they could by hook or crook lay their hands 
upon, regardless of the law 'of meum et tuum. 
Their day of judgment had come — only they 
did not tarry to be judged. To henceforth earn 
their living in the sweat of their faces was a con- 
tingency too terrifying even to be considered; 
and they had passed the privilege up. 

The other boats had similar difficulties in get- 
ting away. It was estimated that more than 
twenty-five thousand families left the country 
during the day and so great was the demand for 
passage that steerage berths brought $5,000 
apiece. Even at that not more than a third of 


88 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


those who were ready and anxious to get away 
and willing to pay the price could be accommo- 
dated. 

Down in the hold of one of the outward 
^ bound steamships two patriots collided in the 
precarious footing caused by mountains of bag- 
gage piled helter-skelter and lying in inextri- 
cable confusion where it had been dumped by 
the simple, yet expeditious, method of throwing 
it down the hatchways. 

“Hello there, Mr. B.” saluted one. 

“Hello! By George, that you, Mr. A? Have 
you sold that block of N. Y. C. yet 

The former magnate grinned sheepishly in 
the uncertain light that had not been installed 
for the accommodation of millionaires. “Say, 
ain’t this hell?” he queried. 

The other did not reply. Perhaps he did not 
hear. He was staring moodily at nothing in 
particular and listening to the churning of the 
waves against the ship’s staunch bottom. 


CHAPTER V. 


With such and similar scenes the first day 
under the law of expropriation wore away. 
President Tempest had instructed his deputies 
to spare no effort to keep open all existing lines 
of transportation and communication. In this 
he was aided by the circumstance that most of 
the trainmen and railroad employees in general 
were trades unionists and Socialists; and still 
more by the fact that the chief officials of the 
different roads were like minded — not because 
they relished the idea of deadheading the curi- 
ous and idle millions over the country, but be- 
cause they were as much in the dark as the gen- 
eral public and figured that if any relief were to 
come for a situation which they unanimously 
characterized as “anarchistic,” it must come by 
way of the railroads. They kept the wires hot 
with telegrams to Washington. But although 
their appeals to the overthrown government were 
frantic they received no satisfaction and relief 
was as distant and as conjectural as before. 

The telegraphers held the key to the situa- 
tion. They were Socialists almost to a man, 


90 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


their communication with headquarters was un- 
interrupted and they alone, as a class, could 
grasp and analyze the significance of the move- 
ment as a whole and keep in touch with the 
pulse of the nation at its mighty heart and 
throughout its myriad arteries. And they were 
not giving anything away. By a prearranged 
plan nothing but Socialist business received the 
least attention. The captains of industry were 
mystified and helpless, as was the general pub- 
lic, but they did not dare cut the wires. They 
had a horror of any further isolation and waited 
and hoped for the news they could not get,, the 
relief that was not in sight, the messages that 
never came. The one thing that deposed au- 
thority everywhere prayed for, wept for, raved 
and stormed for and bitterly cursed because it 
could not obtain, yet looked for with every in- 
coming train — was a jaunty and disciplined 
troup of their Uncle Sam’s regulars who should 
alight from a string of day coaches and, un- 
slinging their carbines and working with auto- 
matic precision, commerce a merry biff! bang! 
biff! like bridegrooms advancing to the feast, 
and keep it up until the heart was shot out of 
every ''upstart revolutionist” in sight. They 
could not all at once realize that the old au- 
thority and the old law were dead and cast upon 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


91 


the junk-heap of history. It was too sudden. 
It was too preposterous. Jamais ! impossible ! 
absurd ! 

Another thing: As a man readeth so will he 
think. They had read naught but capitalistic 
journals whose subsidized editors had never in 
their lives passed up an opportunity to tell their 
devoted readers the direful things that would 
happen if the Socialists should ever come into 
power. According to these inspired prophets 
such a contingency (they took pains, though, to 
inform their friends that it really never could 
occur) would be followed by a reign of terror 
which would make the doings of the French 
revolution and the pleasantries of the Act of 
Faith look like a silver quarter plus a nickel by 
comparison. There was to be nothing but blood, 
blood, blood. If there was or could be anything 
additional it would be more blood. But the timid 
and horror-stricken reactionaries looked around 
in vain for any signs of the crimson life-fluid. 
The great American voting king with the French 
pseudonym — to wit, the proletaire — he wasn’t 
shedding any blood nor was he contemplating 
anything approximately or more remotely bear- 
ing upon the subject of gore. He was taking 
advantage of a free outing and was having the 
happiest time of his life. Socialist orators were 


92 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


telling him that monopoly had been thrown off 
his back and he straightened out his bent spine 
and felt and looked a foot taller because of the 
blessed relief. The Socialists themselves were 
not shedding any blood, although heaven knows 
they did not lack for provocation. Neither were 
the gentle and pious reactionaries wading knee- 
deep in the sanguinary tide they knew was due, 
by all the prophets and by all the rules of proph- 
ecy. Indeed blood was mainly conspicuous by 
its entire absence. Those who had the power 
to inaugurate the expected reign of terror de- 
sired nothing but peace and harmony, while 
those who would have unchained the blood- 
hounds were powerless. 

Expropriation, too, of which such disastrous 
things had been prophesied, was, in actual prac- 
tice, scarcely noticed by the average citizen, so 
smooth and orderly were its workings. All exten- 
sive stockyards, grain elevators, wholesale gro- 
cery concerns and jobbers’ stocks of necessary and 
staple commodities were taken over as a matter 
of course; and all transportation lines were run 
in the interests of the public. But this inter- 
fered with comparatively few people and those 
few were undisturbed in their other possession'^. 
In fact, as a Chicago member of the strategy board 
wired President Tempest, the whole country 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


93 


was picnicking, everything was lovely and all 
things working together for the good of those 
who served the Lord on the side of the co- 
operative commonwealth. ' 

Many thousands of merchants in the aggre- 
gate, mostly those living in seaport towns, and 
more specifically the owners of stocks of jew- 
elry and precious stones and metals, rich tapes- 
tries, rugs and art goods, having chartered such 
sea-going craft as were to be had, were moving 
heaven and earth to transfer their possessions 
aboard and sail for some foreign port where 
they could be disposed of, even if at a sacrifice. 
From their point of view a half-loaf was better 
than no bread. With these forehanded indi- 
viduals nobody interfered until certain of their 
number began to set fire to what they could not 
thus carry off, and, moreover, circulated reports 
that the Socialists were looting and burning the 
town. This was the straw that broke the cameFs 
back. The order went forth that no more mer- 
chandise was to be moved and that all owners 
of such stocks would be held responsible for 
further conflagrations of the sort. 

In the country districts the rural population 
pursued the even tenor of its accustomed way. 
Now and then an excited farmer would come 
home from the market town bringing his local 


94 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


paper which announced that the country was in 
the grip of sedition, rebellion, anarchy, treason, 
incendiarism, mob rule and other terrible things, 
and called upon the tillers of the soil to rise in 
their “majestic might and virtuous indignation” 
and “stamp out the Briarean monster of foreign 
importation” until it was “deader than a door 
nail,” together with a great deal more hysteri- 
cal bombast along the same general line. The 
majority of the grangers, however, had not in 
the recent past found life so dear nor peace so 
sweet under the beneficent domination of the 
trusts that they could be enthused into any more 
warlike ebullition than a phlegmatic “Let ’er 
come, b’gosh !” 

In the meantime the chief executive of the 
defunct republic had had, and was still having, 
troubles of his own. They did not come singly 
and alone ; they came in bunches, legions, myr- 
iads, and every passing hour contributed to his 
further agony of soul. To begin with, some time 
in the small hours before daybreak his bed- 
room telephone, singing viciously, aroused him 
from a profound slumber. 

“What do you want?” he growled resent- 
fully. 

“You are informed that the Socialists have 


4 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


95 


captured the District,” announced a voice he 
recognized as belonging to his secretary. 

“The hell they have ! What do you take this 
to be — the first of April ?” 

“Alas ! your excellency, I fear this is no joke. 
The reds have seized the military defences and 
are swarming ” 

The booming of many cannon, some nearby, 
others far out across the Potomac, drowned the 
rest of his secretary’s message. From the ad- 
jacent square arose a tumultuous cheering, the 
tramp, tramp of bands of marching soldiers, 
the lively strains of a fife and drum corps. 

“Gott im Himmel !” swore the president hust- 
ling into his outer garments, I was wrong 
about that April fool business — they must think 
this is the fourth of July.” 

In his great haste and excitement the execu- 
tive had seized upon the first articles of apparel 
that came to hand — a pair of khaki riding 
breeches, a white pique waistcoat, a hunting coat 
with red flannel lining which, having been left 
wrong side out by his colored valet, he did not 
stop to turn. One foot he thrust into a tan- 
colored riding boot, the other into a black 
leather military boot. The only headgear in 
sight was a silk plug and this he jammed upon 
his head with an impatient oath and strode into 


96 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


his private office roaring for his black horse to 
be saddled in tones to wake the neighborhood, 
if any still slept through the previous racket. 

In the outer office or reception room was as 
forlorn an aggregation of dignitaries as ever 
beheld the batons of authority fade away. Two 
of the District commissioners were there, look- 
ing as foolish as they doubtless felt. The chief 
of police with half a dozen of his crestfallen 
stalwarts; a department commander of infantry 
who had in his day played hide-and-seek with 
Sitting Bull and other notorious and rebellious 
wards of the nation ; a wildly gesticulating group 
of army officers whose simultaneous and painful 
efforts to explain just how it all happened were 
nothing if not distracting; two or three cabinet 
members; half a score senators and congress- 
men ; made up a Down-and-Out club whose 
membership was being constantly augmented by 
fresh recruits. Into this bunch of pink-tea 
statesmen and had-been warriors, the president 
hurled his imposing make-up with the force of 
a catapult. He had completed his fetching en- 
semble by the addition of a brace of army re- 
volvers and a cavalryman’s sabre, snatched 
from the wall as he ran, and adjusted with scant 
regard for the requirements of military eti- 
quette. 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


97 


“Gentlemen !” he thundered reproachfully, 
“is this the way you crush out anarchy and re- 
bellion? Upon my word there’s no anarchy 
here. You’ll find it out on the streets where the 
brazen-throated rabble is howling the stars 
loose in their sockets and, I doubt not, murder- 
ing innocent citizens by the thousands.” 

“Sir,” cried the old department commander, 
trembling with righteous indignation, “we are 
helpless !” 

“You certainly look the part,” commented the 
executive with scathing irony, “but what help do 
you expect to find here — why are you not lead- 
ing your troops against these greasy cut-throats 
and rebels before God and man?” 

“The troops are rebels also — those who are 
not rebels are prisoners ” 

“But the naval reserves — the militia ” 

“Nothing doing — they’re either Socialists, an- 
archists or else under a guard of those same 
delectable wretches.” 

“God’s blood ! But the man-o-warsmen — they 
haven’t ” 

"Every man-jack is a mutineer or else in 
irons because he isn’t a mutineer.” 

""That’s consoling — ^there’s nothing like the 
whole-hog-or-none spirit.” 

At this juncture the honorable secretary of 


98 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


war, puffing and blowing like a porpoise in dis- 
tress, came waddling into the council chamber. 
His clothes were awry, his hat missing, his face 
covered with blood, the result of a fall on the 
pavement. 

^'Mr. — President !” he shrieked in a labored 
falsetto, for his wind had completely died out, 
‘'anarchy — reigns !” * 

“I should say that it pours,” corrected the 
chief, grimly, and the honorable secretary col- 
lapsed into a convenient chair, mopping his 
bleeding face with a handkerchief. 

The president glanced wrathfully over his 
bunch of down-and-outers. His gaze fell upon 
the two mournful commissioners. 

“What are you expecting to accomplish around 
here?” he demanded, with a frankness that was 
embarrassing and an accent that was irritating, 
to say the least. “Do you think the District of 
Columbia is the whole United States? Why are 
you not telegraphing for outside assistance ? 
Are you going to wait until we are all butch- 
ered ? Are you ” 

“We called up Baltimore,” broke in one of the 
commissioners, wearily, “and the operator po- 
litely replied that Baltimore had troubles of her 
own. We got Philadelphia. Anarchy likewise 
reigns there — or pours, if your excellency pre- 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


99 


fers that expression,” he added with malice up 
his sleeve. “We also connected with the gov- 
ernor of New York. His cheerful response was 
to the effect that both city and state depend 
upon Washington for relief.” 

“Oh! — they do, do they? Their modesty is 
as ingenuous as their faith in Washington is sub- 
lime and touching. So they depend upon us — 
well, I hope they’ll not be disappointed. Seems 
to me — oh, Mr. Secretary!” 

The secretary of state, much perturbed in 
mind and general appearance, had just arrived 
and was evidently looking for his chief. The 
latter led the way to an inner room. “What’s 
the outlook?” he asked. 

“"‘Good God! The whole country’s gone to 
smash,” wailed the secretary. “It’s simply un- 
believable. How they did it I can’t imagine, and 
if I could it wouldn’t be of any use ; but the So- 
cialists have captured everything in sight from 
Maine to California — ^the army, the navy, forts, 
arsenals, ordnance, ammunition, supplies — in 
fact, although it’s perfectly shocking to realize, 
we’re outwitted, outclassed, and bound hand and 
foot.” 

“Humph!” snorted the president, “where did 
you find out so much ?” 

“From one of the brutes themselves. You re- 


OFC, 


100 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


member Hugo Lane?— used to be a tow-headed 
page in the Senate until he got fired for some- 
thing or other. Well, he took up telegraphy and 
for the past year or longer has held down the 
night shift at the hotel. I knew he was a red- 
hot Socialist and when the ruction started this 
morning I started for him the first thing. He 
put me off for an hour or so, but as soon as he 
learned that the mob was victorious everywhere 
he became more communicative.” 

‘‘Humph!” again growled the executive. He 
was doing some tall thinking. “Did he hap- 
pen to mention who was at the head of the new 
dispensation ?” 

“Why, yes — ^but I forget — oh, it is the fellow 
who wrote the novel, ‘Wind and Whirlwind’ — 
his name is Tempest or some such foul -weather 
cognomen. The new Capitol building, I under- 
stand, is City Hall, New York.” 

“Well, I don’t know that it is of any conse- 
quence for the next week or ten days who he 
is or where he is. After that he would better 
move his seat of government further inland 
than New York City Hall. Now, Mr. Secre- 
tary, can we get a cablegram across to the other 
side?” 

“Probably ; by way of my summer place in the 
Adirondacks and Montreal — I think I can.” 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


101 


“Then,” said the president, , “for God’s sake 
get a wiggle on yourself! Send the message to 
Kaiser , Bill. He’ll know what to do. He’ll 
start out a crowd that will lap up Socialism the 
way Hades is supposed to assimilate snowballs.” 

With a much lighter heart than he had come 
the Secretary hastened away; and three hours 
later the German Emperor was reading the fol- 
lowing cablegram signed by the president and 
countersigned by his secretary of state : 

Hell has broken loose in the United States 
just as in Russia. Send relief at once or we 
perish. Advise other powers. 

Like an electric shock that cry of despair from 
over sea went through the kind heart of the 
emperor, so many of whose worthy compatriots 
of beneficent trust-fame he saw in his mind’s 
eye exposed to the horror of having to go to 
work. He immediately dashed off a reply, but 
it had the misfortune to fall into the hands of 
the enemy. The operator did not exactly sup- 
press the message, but he and some of his wag- 
gish comrades took such liberty with the text 
that when it finally reached the hands of the 
secretary of state it read something like this : 


102 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


Der dog-haus of der Hohenzollerns,}* 

May der Fairst.) 

Mine Goot und Lieber Freundts: 

Me und Gott iss cameing to der rescue. 
Vait for I. Don’d do a ting till I got dere. 
Your poor lonesome spiel for hellup iss to 
make a stone image veep. Gottsdonner- 
blitzen ! but I vill rouss mit dose arnykists. 
All your droubles vill be ofer — not yet, but 
soon. Wilhelm. 

It was 3 :30 o’clock in the afternoon. Presi- 
dent Tempest was at his desk at City Hall and 
nearby was a group of half a dozen strategists. 
The crowds had long since departed, but a re- 
duced number of pickets still paroled the build- 
ing, to the unbounded disgust of such cranks and 
curiosity seekers as hankered for a tete-a-tete 
with authority, as well as of a numerous class 
of citizens who had on tap a string of grievances 
that would reach from the Battery to Harlem,- 
all growing out of the new law and varying all 
the way from the loss of a pet poodle to the loss 
of a railway system. All these kickers were 
good looking but they couldn’t get in. 

"‘Oh, I don’t know,” remarked Benton Ord- 
way, “we seem to be doing fairly well for the 
first day’s try-out of expropriation.” 

“So we are,” said Paul Devoe, “but we mustn’t 
take it for granted that opposition is dead be- 
cause it is temporarily stupefied.” 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


103 


“There’s one sort of opposition that’s neither 
dead nor sleeping,” declared President Bill, and 
he added: “but, by the Triangular Trinity! it 
will be, inside of another twenty-four hours, or 
I’ll know the reason why.” 

“What’s that. Bill?” inquired Vic Mercereau, 
languidly gazing down at the street panorama. 

“I was referring to some of these damned 
rabid newspapers on the Row. They will have 
to radically change their tune or I’ll shut off 
their wind. Listen to this gem from the edi- 
torial page. It is only a sample of the stuff 
with which the rest of the page, and in fact the 
whole paper, is filled: 

The lawless hellions of anarchy and ex- 
propriation are strutting out their little 
hour upon the stage of contemporary his- 
tory. Today they are feasting and drink- 
ing, glutting their proletarian appetites 
upon the luxuries for which they toiled not, 
steeping their barbarian senses ad nau- 
seam in the riches that others accumulated. 
Today the Have-nots are running amuck 
through the house of Have and playing 
football with the ten billion dollars repre- 
senting the taxable wealth of the metropo- 
lis. True to their gutter breeding and 
swinish instincts they wallow upon and 
defile what they cannot immediately de- 
vour or carry off; and their saturnalia of 


104 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


crime and disregard of property rights is 
characteristically rounded out by a corre- 
sponding contempt for the inviolability of 
the person — many thousands among the 
refined and exclusive families of the com- 
munity having sufifered the most shameful 
and humiliating indignities at the hands of 
this sacrilegious rabble that perpetrates its 
unspeakable infamies in the name of lib- 
erty, in the name of civilization, in the 
name of evolution ! Ay ; they are feast- 
ing today and when the drop curtain of 
night descends upon the disgraceful scene 
God only knows what bacchanalian or- 
gies, what riot of bloodshed and butchery, 
will be launched upon a shuddering and 
helpless public. 

But — courage ! If we have been unfaith- 
ful sentries on the watch-towers of popu- 
lar sovereignty — as perhaps some of us 
may have been — this is our reward and our 
bitter lesson. Not soon again shall we 
fall asleep at our posts. This cup of our deg- 
radation will pass away. In one week from 
today, or less, if an over-ruling Providence 
so will it, the blind and fatuous horde, sur- 
feited of its own excesses, will fall an easy 
prey to the determined and self-reliant citi- 
zenship that has made our glorious country 
what it is. In one week from today the 
ignoble carcasses of anarchy and the lead- 
ers of anarchy will litter the earth as she 
is stre'\yn with autumn leaves, a warning 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


105 


to those who in the future would attempt 
to subvert the state and tamper with au- 
thority. In one week 

An usher approached bearing a card and the 
president paused in his reading. He glanced at 
the pasteboard and his features lighted up with 
amazement and incredulity. 

‘'Oh — by all means — certainly — show the gen- 
tleman right up,” he said. 

The gentleman in question proved to be a tall, 
athletically set up specimen of perhaps forty- 
five years, dressed in the height of fashion and 
wearing a fresh carnation in his buttonhole. 

‘T beg your pardon,” he said, advancing to 
the president’s desk, “but I am deputized by a 
committee of prominent citizens to wait upon 
your — is one expected to say ‘serene excellency?’ 
— with the object of — er — interviewing you in 
regard to such of your plans for the immediate 
future as you may be disposed to give out to 
the public.” 

“Why do you not better coiKeal the contempt 
which you, as a capitalistic belly-crawler and 
time-server, naturally feel toward a Socialist, 
who is independent and, therefore, out of your 
class — aren’t you actor enough or don’t you 
care to — and what is it you want to know, any- 
how ?” 


106 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


“I — ^that is — er — we — really, this is most ex- 
traordinary — oh, anything that your — ^that you 
may be willing to communicate ” 

Under the transfixion of the president’s glit- 
tering eye, colder than forty below zero, the 
caller paused, stammering in confusion. He at- 
tempted to bluster it out, gave it up and craw- 
fished toward the door, mumbling some unintel- 
ligible apology. 

. “One moment,” commanded President Bill. 
“Turn about is only fair play. Now, if you don’t 
mind, I will interview you. Step this way, 
please.” 

The other hesitated. Nobody appreciated bet- 
ter than he the sorry figure he had cut as an in- 
terviewer. He glanced nervously at his only 
avenue of escape. Vic Mercereau and another 
comrade were strolling carelessly over his way 
and he had no doubt as to their motive. Un- 
willingly he retraced his steps. 

“What can I do for you?” he inquired, with 
what indifference of manner and tone he could 
command. 

The president seized a blue pencil and drew a 
circle around the editorial from which he had 
just been reading. “You are the editor of this 
publication, I believe,” he said. “Did you write 
this article?” 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


107 


The journalist began to understand the reason 
for his chilly reception. “Suppose I did?’' he 
queried. 

“The authorship is already sufficiently sup- 
posititious. I ask you a plain, straightforward 
question. Did you, or did you not, write the 
editorial ?” 

“Well, if you must know, I wrote the article, 
certainly. You Socialists have split your lungs 
clamoring for freedom of the press. Do you now 
wish to abrogate it because the boot happens to 
be on the other foot?” 

“Not the freedom of the press, but this edi- 
torial is the topic under discussion. It is only 
confusing to generalize where specification is 
plainly called for. Now — this carnival of mur- 
der, running amuck, rioting, incendiarism, bac- 
chanalian orgies, looting and ravishing of the 
person that you so glibly picture — do you hap- 
pen to know of any particular instance calculated 
to give even a shred of truth to your violent 
tirade? Have you knowledge of any murders 
committed by Socialists?” 

“Why — no — there are reports ” 

“Who reported — who has, to your knowledge, 
seen anything of the kind ?” 

“I cannot say — the city is full of rumors.” 

“Then you do not actually know of anybody 
being murdered?” 


108 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


^‘Not exactly — no.” 

“Not exactly? What do you mean by that? 
Do you know of anybody who has been half-way 
murdered by Socialists?” 

“No.” 

'‘Oh — you don’t, eh? Well, according to the 
best of my information and belief your chances 
of getting assigned to the same brimstone pile 
with old Ananias appear exceedingly bright. 
Can you substantiate, by furnishing me with 
names, dates and places, any one of the serious 
charges herein preferred against the comrades-- 
militant of the co-operative commonwealth?” 

His niblets was obliged to confess to a painful 
dearth of the goods called for. 

“Then,” declared President Bill, “my time be- 
ing too valuable to squander upon incorrigibles 
of your type, this is my pronunciamento : Your 
journalistic rag, having forfeited its right to be, 
is herewith incontinently squelched ; and you and 
your precious outfit of mental and moral perverts 
are cordially invited to trek it — to treat your- 
selves to a peripatetic sneak around the block. 
I think that is all; and you may consider the 
interview closed, so far as I am concerned.” 

As he made his escape the discomfited jour- 
nalist could not resist the impulse to deliver a 
parting shot. “I hope you Socialists will enjoy 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


109 


your new rattle,” he sneeringly cried, ^‘but it is 
my consolation that you will not have long to 
shake it. The powers of Christendom will not 
stand for this sort of thing ; and after your 
unholy rabble has paid the inevitable penalty of 
sedition — when you are all rotting in hell — please 

consider that the New York will still be 

doing business at the old stand.” 

‘Tf they send you around here for any more 
interviews there will most likely be a vacant 
chair in the editorial rooms whether or not that 
subsidized sheet resumes its hot-air functions,” 
retorted the chief; but his bird had flown out of 
hearing. 

^‘They die hard,” observed Ordway. 

'‘Yes,” replied the president, “they have been 
‘molding’ public opinion so long that the bare 
idea of introducing a new set of molds brings on 
heart disease.” 

The sun went down in a blaze of crimson glory. 
One by one the stars came out, looming softly 
through the mist that overhung the harbor. 
From their illimitable spaces they flashed and 
wheeled along their inscrutable way as calmly, 
as majestically as they had when Babylon was 
razed by fire and sword, when Alexandria, capit- 
ulating to the invaders’ torches, lit up the sea 


110 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


for miles around, or when imperial Rome was 
sacked by yellow-haired barbarians from the 
Northland. 

The four-and-a-half million population of 
Greater New York furnished a practical illustra- 
tion of the contention that philosophy is not yet 
dead. With scarcely a surface ripple of excite- 
ment Broadway and Fifth avenue pursued their 
accustomed pleasures and distractions, and the- 
atres, cafes, shops and amusement halls were 
running full blast, just as if the most momentous 
revolution of history were an every-day, matter- 
of-fact occurrence. 

But withal ib was strikingly noticeable that 
the crowds seemed to have lost the weary, brood- 
ing, care-obsessed expression that aforetime, like 
the deep and resistless undercurrent of some 
mightly stream, always lay beneath their light- 
est laughter and jarred discordantly in their 
gayest tones. The bitter struggle for bread un- 
der the polished warfare of competition was the 
Banquo that lurked behind every smile ; that, un- 
bidden, came and stared gloomily across every 
feast. And now that the ghost had been exor- 
cised the restless throngs moved with a lighter 
step, the laughter was care-free and spontaneous. 
It was heaven itself for the multitudes to realize 
that profit, rent and interest had extracted their 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


111 


last drop of blood, their last pound of flesh. Just 
to dream that no man owned their means of live- 
lihood, that the lying, scrambling, underbidding 
and gouging for a chance to work were things 
of the past, that poverty was forever banished — 
was like a breath from Elysian fields, a draught 
of nectar from the chalices of the gods. 

Of course there were glowering, sullen faces, 
too, among the populace that idly drifted over 
town exchanging gossip or repeating startling 
rumors ; but these, as a rule, were not to be seen 
upon the street. Behind closed doors and barred 
windows, muttering and scowling in the gloom, 
armed for they knew not what, dreading attacks 
from they knew not whence, cursing the law, 
the mob, the country and themselves, trembling 
and moaning, pacing to and fro like caged ani- 
mals, glaring down upon the streets with white, 
hate-distorted features: were not a few of the 
possessing class who had at the expense of others 
lived in luxury and idleness all their days and 
who now saw that the jig was up. What to 
them was the lackadaisical philosophy that one 
class of society cannot, except by endangering 
the whole of society, prey upon another class? 
In nameless terror, as if awaiting for the crack 
of doom, they wandered about in the midst of 
their overthrown and discredited money gods. 


112 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


trying to imagine what life would be without 
them, endeavoring to picture what new horrors 
the next step in expropriation would reveal. For 
them chaos had come, indeed, and their cup of 
wretchedness was full and running over. 

And while the disinherited millions rejoiced, 
feasting, laughing and shouting because they 
had come into possession of their own after the 
lapse of uncounted centuries of exploitation ; 
and while the victims of expropriation hugged 
their broken idols and flitted like ghosts amid 
the ruins of the temple of Mammon, a strange 
thing came to pass — that is, it was strange to 
the thoughtless and credulous multitudes. The 
strategy board could have explained the phe- 
nomenon, for they had been at some pains to 
produce it. 

High up above the city, far out over the 
Hudson, toward the mystery-shrouded North and 
almost as far .away, it seemed, as Polaris itself, 
like an omen from the gods in bygone days, in 
letters of fire that blazed faintly, yet distinctly, 
across the sky, the awe-stricken millions read 
and softly repeated, one to another, this promise 
and token of a brighter day : 

LET ALL THE NATIONS REJOICE AND BE GLAD ! 

PEACE ON EARTH, GOOD WILL TO MEN ! 


CHAPTER VI. 


The co-operative commonwealth had been in- 
augurated a week. Slowly but surely order, sys- 
tem, definite plan, were displacing the chaos born 
of revolution. The strategy board had to creep 
before it could walk ; but it candidly acknowl- 
edged its limitations, sought advice when in 
doubt, invoked the aid of the referendum prin- 
ciple and announced from day to day the out- 
lines of its general policy, so that all interested 
might share in the discussion of the programme 
which was intended to affect all in equal degree. 

Ay ; all in equal degree. How glibly such plati- 
tudes used to fall from the lips of politicians! 
From the Fourth of* July orator we learned that' 
all men were born free and equal, although in 
the white-and-gold cradles of Special Privilege 
were infant heirs to fortunes so vast that thou- 
sands, even tens of thousands, of workers must 
toil their wretched lives away in the uphill task 
of producing dividends upon the enormous capital 
invested for those tiny plutocrats. 

^'But hold!” exclaim the supporters of capi- 
talistic institutions, ‘'not so fast. Why, don’t 


114 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


you know that any one of those toilers could, 
if he had the brains, not only elevate himself to 
independence but might even acquire possession 
of the very millions bequeathed to his infant em- 
ployer, and at death leave in another white-and- 
gold cradle an infant of his own whose fortune 
should be double that of the said infant em- 
ployer ?” 

The argument is irrelevant in that it has no 
bearing upon the proposition that all are born 
free and equal ; furthermore, it makes no account 
of the modern system of trust-management by 
which swollen fortunes are practically entailed 
for all time ; and the speciousness of the logic 
is still further apparent when one reflects that 
even if now and then a toiler could so rise to 
affluence the rest of the toilers would be as 
wretchedly off as before. They would have 
merely changed masters and their ill-starred 
progeny would still be born under inferior and 
unequal conditions. 

Another fanciful stock argument, as beautiful 
as it was visionary, predicated that all were equal 
before the law, that Justice was blind, impartial, 
unswerving — in a word that she was just. 

She may have been blind. There used also to 
be a suspicion that she was lame, and in other 
respects both physically and mentally deformed ; 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 115 


but just she certainly was not and never could 
have been under the rule of Special Privilege 
which at will set up and pulled down its own 
preferred brand of the oracular goddess, as in- 
stanced by the rich criminals who sinned and got 
away, and by common criminals who sinned and 
who also got a way — a different way. Even 
when, for the moral effect it was supposed to have 
upon the masses, a predatory trust was brought 
to book and punished the punishment, being in 
the nature of a fine, invariably reacted upon the 
public which, through the enhanced prices imme- 
diately levied upon the products of that partic- 
ular monopoly, promptly paid back the fine with 
interest. Thus was equality between classes, 
whether politically, socially, economically, legally 
or even from a religious standpoint, a byword and 
a jest. 

In contradistinction to this somewhat painful 
joke, equality under co-operation was what the 
label indicated, principally and especially because 
of the extinction of classes. Class rule having 
come to grief of its own artificiality had for- 
feited its right to further prolongation of the 
competitive agony and had died a natural death ; 
since revolution, either peaceful or violent, was 
the legitimate and only possible end. 

Accordingly, in line with the new conception 


116 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


of equality — the equality that really equalized — 
the sine qua non of citizenship was the badge of 
the worker. Idlers, drones, parasites and dilet- 
tanti might suicide or starve; but no adequate 
provision was. made for them to live. Everybody 
from the president down the line was a worker 
and was obliged to furnish the quid pro quo. 
Public office was a public trust and not a public 
“snap,” and every public officer had a good 
stout string attached to him by means of which 
a reasonable percentage of the voters could recall 
him without circumlocution, red tape, chancery 
courts or impeachment proceedings. 

This new conception of equality does not nec- 
essarily mean that a board of competent an- 
thropologists, sociologists, chemists and phrenol- 
ogists had met in conclave and solemnly and 
learnedly announced that every citizen of the 
commonwealth was endowed with the same men- 
tal and physical characteristics and capacities. 
Far from it. It signifies, rather, that classes 
having been abolished by the expropriation -of 
the national resources, thus putting all upon 
the same economic level, social, political and legal 
inequalities could not exist. 

As agriculture is the basis of civilized existence 
upon the planet, has always been and must 
continue to be, steps were thus early taken to 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


117 


provide for the planting of immense areas to 
spring crops of staple cereals and vegetables. 
For this purpose millions of acres in the central 
West were set aside and the work of clearing 
them of farm buildings, fences and other ob- 
structions was begun. Many villages and larger 
towns thus had to go^ as they were of no prac- 
tical use and far from ornamental. All of which 
was preparatory to the introduction of steam 
plows and other power-driven machinery and 
gave temporary employment to several million 
farmers and other workers from the cities, 
clerks, salesmen, etc., who were nothing loath 
to have a change of occupation, get a view of the 
vast plains, the mighty waterways, the majestic 
mountains, the many inspiring works of nature, 
of which the continent is so prodigal, but which, 
under the debasing era of dollar-grubbing, they 
could never have hoped to see, outside of dreams 
and post-cards. The fiction that human beings 
preferred to pass their lives in dingy, stuffy 
offices and salesrooms with their inevitable ac- 
companiment of vitiated atmosphere, unsanitary 
appointments, contaminated water supply and 
germ-laden, disease-breeding surroundings gen- 
erally, when they might just as well, had they 
so chosen, have got out and labored in the 
glorious air and sunshine which are the heritage 


118 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


of the race — was worthy of the unnatural and 
artificial system that invented and handed it 
down. The causes lay deeper beneath the sur- 
face (just as did those of the domestic '^servant” 
problem) than any more freedom of choice would 
indicate; but those days being forever over and 
gone it were bootless now to attempt an analysis. 
Suffice it to say that plantation life with its social 
groups, its modern inventions and conveniences, 
its public restaurants presided over by qualified 
chefs, its varied amusements, rapid communica- 
tion, freedom of transportation to neighboring 
groups and to large centers of population, to- 
gether with a delightful programme of alternat- 
ing work and recreation, the most of the work, 
even, being done by machinery ; promised to 
attract to agricultural communities all whose oc- 
cupations in the equally necessary mechanical arts 
and crafts did not debar them from the choice. 

Rome was not built in a day, but they made 
a beginning the first day. And just so did the 
chief agriculturists, architects and landscape gar- 
deners of each of the prospective groups, or 
plantations, plan for the future beauty of the 
completed whole. 

In the South, also, immense tracts were set 
aside for the. same purpose, care being exercised 
not to intrude other crops upon the natural 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


119 


habitat of the cotton plant which was destined to 
fulfill so important a function in the domestic 
economy of the future, even as it had in the 
past. 

Other millions of the populace found employ- 
ment building highways and trolley roads in 
the sections designed for agricultural purposes, 
in accordance with the recognized necessity for 
rapid and easy communication between the vari- 
ous groups. 

Still other large numbers of workers were 
engaged in transporting supplies to the new cen- 
ters of population; so that, even at the end of 
the first week, what with machinery, steel and 
metal workers, carpenters and allied craftsmen 
whose services or whose output were in demand 
at the same points, it was evident that more than 
half the population of the entire country was 
massed or rapidly massing around the vast tracts 
to be devoted to agriculture. 

Peach and apple, cherry, pear, prune, orange 
and lemon orchards, all in the particular locali- 
ties pronounced by government experts as best 
adapted for their successful cultivation, remained 
to be set out and propagated on the same ex- 
tensive scale. Vineyards, berries and all small 
fruits would in time receive like attention, fur- 
nishing healthful and pleasurable occupation for 
many thousand women and children. 


120 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


And then— but this is anticipating, owing to 
the fact that the strategy board could in a day, 
and without working overtime at that, think up 
more delectable schemes for the aggrandizement 
of the commonwealth than the workers could 
carry out in a year of Sundays. 

And while grim-visaged war seemed to have 
had a tailor’s goose rubbed across its wrinkled 
front, so far as concerned the internal and do- 
mestic programme of co-operation, the comrades 
temporarily guiding the ship of state were forci- 
bly reminded that co-Qperative man does not 
live for himself alone while competitive stand- 
ards prevail in outside bailiwicks. The reminder 
came in the shape of a cablegram in the cypher 
of the international Socialist code: 

Hostile fleet twenty-five warships as- 
sembling in North Sea. Will convoy a 
hundred transports — 200,000 infantry. 
Probably sail 10th of month. 

‘That’s encouraging,” remarked President 
Bill to Swale Oldrem, who had just come into 
the executive chamber. • 

“That means there’ll be at least 300,000 of 
’em in all,” said Swale, pulling meditatively at 
his cigar. “It also means,” he added, “that the 
fish are due for. the banquet of their lives.” 

“I don’t suppose there’s any doubt about the 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


121 


reliability of those new-fangled submarine de- 
stroyers — eh?” queried the president a trifle anx- 
iously. He had already had a strenuous day 
with the kickers and knockers and the “woist” 
was yet to come. 

''Well, you can gamble on it, there’s no doubt 
whatever,” asserted Oldrem. "Stevens and I 
have just been down to Sandy Hook trying one 
of ’em out. Say — they’re the goods all right. 
Gad, there’s nothing to ’em but engine and 
torpedo tube — only two people can crawl aboard, 
one to tun the engine and the other to steer 
and work the artillery — but take it from me they 
can go like a scared jack-rabbit and stay under 
water a week. We took a hundred-mile spin 
down among the mermaids in a little over three 
hours. That’s going some, isn’t it? But Stev- 
ens said he didn’t let her out ; was afraid we’d 
strike a wreck or a reef or something of the sort. 
No; you needn’t worry about the submarines — 
they’ll do their part.” 

"In that case,” declared the president, "we’ll 
do ours and soon business will be no end brisk.” 

"For the finny tribe,” murmured Swale, and 
a world of conviction was in his tone. 

"Oh, God !” groaned the president, "here ^!omes 
another kicker.” 

"It’s a mortal pipe he’s one,” agreed Swale. 
"If you say so I’ll toss him out of the window.” 


122 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


“No,” said the president wearily, “we’re here 
to receive kicks. Let him unfold his tale of 
woe. He will feel better if nobody else does.” 

A tall, elderly, wild-eyed and long-haired indi- 
vidual was bearing down upon them with rapid 
strides. As he approached he fixed his glassy 
gaze upon the 'executive and wailed in the treble 
clef : 

“Damn my luck! Damn my luck!” and re- 
peated the invocation. 

“Well, returned the president dispassionately, 
“I don’t know as I have any objection to your 
damning your luck, only — couldn’t you do it out- 
side as effectively as here? You certainly do not 
attempt to establish a valid connection between 
your deplorable luck and any possible ulterior 
motive, sinister design or malice prepense upon 
my part — do you?” 

“That’s where you’re off. Of course I do — 
that’s what I come for,” declared the unlucky 
one. “Don’t a God-given genius get no rights 
under your damned Socialistic government ? Lis- 
ten ! For thirty years I’ve been working on the 
invention of a steam plow that would turn over 
two hundred and fifty acres in a day — yes, sir — 
two hundred and fifty acres — and now, by jiminy 
cricket! jest as I git her perfected, ready to set 
back and rake in the profits — everybody says 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


123 


’twould a brought me a cool million — along comes 
your crazy crowd and turns things topsy-turvy 
and I don’t git a red cent!” 

‘'Why, my dear sir,” beamed the president, 
“you are to be congratulated. That is just the 
layout the strategy board is looking for.” 

“But where do I come in?” demanded the dis- 
gusted inventor. 

“Why, you get the credit of inventing the plow, 
of course.” 

“Credit! I don’t want no credit — I want the 
coin,” protested the visitor. 

“How much coin would you like?” inquired 
the president. 

“I ought to have a million.” 

“All right, I guess we can accommodate you.” 

“But,” interrupted the other suspiciously, “it 
won’t buy nothin’, will it?” 

“Not in this commonwealth.” 

“Then what’s the good of it? I’m not goin’ 
anywhere else to live, and if I should the Lord 
knows how long it would be before they’d go 
crazy on Socialism.” 

“Well, then, why don’t you keep your in- 
vention to yourself? Nobody can compel you 
to turn it over to the public.” 

“I don’t want to keep it.” 

“-I fear you are hard to please,” said President 


124 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


Bill. ‘‘What would you have done with a 
million dollars under the old system?” 

“Bought things, of course — fine horses and 
carriages, maybe an automobile, a fine house, 
fine clothes, lived on the best and had leisure to 
do as I pleased.” 

“But you can have all those things as it is; 
everybody can have them. Your age exempts 
you from compulsory work; automobiles are 
as easily made as penny tops, and all who wish 
may have them, the slight excess of labor in- 
volved in the construction of autos counting noth- 
ing in a society that has no other purpose than 
the supplying of human needs and desires ; your 
living cannot fall short of the best, since nothing 
but the best is demanded by and for all and the 
same holds good in regard to your other specifi- 
cations. What more do you want?” 

“If everybody’s goin’ to have all them things, 
I shouldn’t want ’em. No use o’ havin’ God- 
given genius if it ain’t to be rewarded extry 
recompense over a common clodhopper.” 

“Oh, you want to be exclusive, do you?” 

“Yes, sir-ee !” 

“You’d better be trotting along then,” ad- 
vised the president, “for you won’t meet with 
any encouragement around here. I should think 
that the gods who have already so signally fa- 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


125 


vored you might be induced to further hump 
themselves in your behalf. Maybe, having al- 
ready furnished you with the idea of a steam 
plow, they will furnish you with a little princi- 
pality of your own in which your clod-hopping 
slaves can run the plow and where you can be 
as exclusive as you. like. We have had too much 
exclusiveness in this country and are now trying 
to get along with less of it.” 

“I don’t care,” said the crank wrathfully and 
spitefully, ''you don’t get the machine, anyhow.” 

"We don’t want your old concern,” declared 
Oldrem, impatiently. "Even if it will do all you 
claim for it we’ve already perfected a plow that 
will do three times the work of yours and will, 
besides, harrow the ground, plant the seed, level 
and roll, all at the same operation.” 

"You’re the champion liar of the universe !” 
shouted the favorite of the gods, as he stam- 
peded for the street. 

"That’s the way to rout a liar. Swale,” chuck- 
led the president, "tell a bigger one than his 
and he’s all in.” 

"Never fails,” laughed Swale, "but in this 
instance I was probably telling the truth. Do 
you know Pink Stannard, formerly state ento- 
mologist of California? He has some pretty 
advanced ideas about agriculture. I met him 


126 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


Uptown this morning ; said he’d call at headquar- 
ters today or tomorrow. He has worked out a 
scheme for just such a plow as I mentioned and 
will explain it to the board when he comes down 
here. The principle is that two powerful sta- 
tionary engines, half a mile apart, operate by 
cable, the gang-plow, harrow, seeder and roller 
at the same time — that is, one is trailed behind 
the other. One engine pulls the several imple- 
ments forward, the other pulls them back, and 
so on, until the half-section is planted. Then the 
next half-section is tackled. Simple as rolling 
off a log.” 

‘‘Holy Moses!” exclaimed the president, “I 
have always understood that Socialism was cal- 
culated to stifle initiative and paralyze inven- 
tion.” 

“So it does,” said Swale. 

“Will you see this gentleman?” inquired one 
of the ushers, presenting a card. The card bore 
the name of the former president whom the for- 
tunes of war had deprived of office, influence, 
peace of mind and other things too numerous 
to specify. 

“Yes, you may pilot him up,” replied the ex- 
ecutive, passing the card to Oldrem. 

“Think we can hold him down?” asked 
Swale, with mild astonishment. 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


127 


^‘The odds' are in our favor; we’re two to 
one — still it would to rash to prophesy.” 

“Well, don’t provoke him, as neither of us 
carries life insurance.” 

The present incumbent was all smiles, affa- 
bility and hospitality. “Dee-lighted!” he de- 
clared, rising and cordially extending the gra- 
cious mitt to his distinguished visitor. 

“I regret that I cannot reciprocate the senti- 
ment,” coldly rejoined he who was down and 
out, and his eye-glasses must have been tem- 
porarily blurred, for he could not see the prof- 
fered hand, although goodness knows it was 
large enough not to be hidden under anything 
much smaller than a bushel. 

The P. I. appeared supremely unconscious of 
the snub. “Permit me to offer you a chair,” he 
went on, “and to present my friend and fellow- 
strategist, Mr. Swale Oldrem.” 

The D. and O. ignored the chair, acknowl- 
edged the introduction by a frigid nod and 
glared resentfully and disapprovingly. “ ^Strat- 
egist’ is a very smooth example of euphonious 
terminology,” he said, “only down in Washing- 
ton we have a different name for the wretches 
who have overthrown law and order, unloosed 
pandemonium, and to whom anything short 
of general wrack and ruin does not appeal.” 


128 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


“Oh, of course you’re naturally rather sore,” 
replied the P. I., “we expect it and make allow- 
ance for it; but you’ll get over it in good time. 
There’s no antidote for your complaint except 
a sufficient duration of the complaint — just as a 
raging fever, if not interfered with by quacks, 
feeds itself and cures itself.” 

. “Oh, cut it out ! Cut it out !” intemperately 
flared the D. and O., his nerves going to pieces 
as if a circuit had been established between 
them and a live electric wire. “I didn’t come 
here to listen to your insufferable twaddle — I 
came to talk business.” 

“Yes, just so; I understand,” soothingly re- 
marked the P. I. with a world of sympathy in 
look and tone. “Under the old regime business 
always came before pleasure. “But,” he added, 
softly, “we have dropped many of those foolish, 
pre-Adamitic conceptions of life. In the co- 
operative commonwealth, now, we first give 
to pleasure unlimited rope — a sort of let-er-go- 
Gallagher, let-joy-be-unconfined swing and 
rhythm, don’t you know. After that, if we hap- 
pen to have any time left over, we not infre- 
quently devote it to business.” 

The D. and O. writhed in torment. “Fool ! 
ass ! dolt or devil ! — whatever you are — ^your 
blood and the blood of your deluded following 
be upon your own heads !” 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


129 


“Fe, fo, fi, fum ! I smell the blood of an Eng- 
lishman/’ interpolated Swale, guilelessly. 

“Who is it talks of blood?” demanded the P. 
I., melodramatically. 

“Who? Why, this hallucinated down-and- 
outer — he’s full of blood — but Socialists have 
no blood. They have been bled so many cen- 
turies by capitalism they’re desiccated as a 
bunch of last year’s cornstalks,” the “Great 
Dane” made reply. 

“Well, then, by the blood of the Lamb ! Let 
us hear no more of blood,” commanded the P. 
I. “Say, old pard,” he went on, addressing the 
D. and O., “you have all the ear-marks of the 
twentieth century pathological anomaly. Over 
in the violent wards at the Polyclinic the at- 
tendants call it brainstorm, but I myself diag- 
nose it as exacerbated Dowieism. However, 
I know what is good for it. Three or four 
scientifically compounded highballs (and the 
higher the better) are guaranteed to work won- 
ders, and if you’ll come out with me I’ll agree 
to set ’em up.” 

“Wretch!” gasped the D. and O., faintly, 
“dog! idiot!” 

“That’s better/’ declared the P. I. “You’re 
coming out of it; anybody can see that. All 
you need is a little more time. You won’t miss 


130 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


your train back to Washington, will you? I 
should never forgive myself for detaining you 
past the hour set for your return. Your con- 
versation is certainly elevating, properly al- 
truistic and inexpressibly entertaining — but I 
do not like to appear selfish. Look me up when- 
ever you’re in town. Dee-lighted, don’t you 
know.” 

“The next time I call on you I’ll bring along 
an argument that you will sit up and take no- 
tice of !” shouted the D. and O. with concen- 
trated fury in look and tone. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” retorted the P. I. amia- 
bly, “it is perhaps not entirely due to your 
Christian spirit that you forebore to do so up- 
on this occasion. It’s my impression that the 
Socialists captured the bulk of your ablest and 
most invincible arguments when they took 
your Gatlings, Krags and Mausers; and,” he 
added, “they’ve got ’em yet.” 

“You won’t have them long,” predicted the 
D. and O. “In a few days from now you and 
your depraved gang will be ornamenting the 
limbs of trees, lamp-posts and telegraph poles 
from one end of Manhattan to the other; your 
outfit of bums that are too proud to work and 
too honest to let anybody else work will be lying 
face-down in the gutters; and the stench from 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


131 


their rotting carcasses cannot appreciably ex- 
ceed the malodcxrous emanations from their liv- 
ing bodies/’ 

The P. I. yawned immoderately. ‘‘Seems to 
me Tve heard something like that before,” he 
said. “Besides, a Socialist, whether living or 
dead, couldn’t possibly smell worse than a 
whey-bellied capitalist who is too proud to as- 
sociate with the workers, but not at all too 
proud to skin them.” 

With head high in air the D. and O. was sail- 
ing toward the door, disdaining further parley 
with his unimpressionable plebeian successor. 

“Come again when you can’t stay so long!” 
called Swale. 

The D. and O. paused in the doorway, drew 
his fingers suggestively across his throat and 
disappeared down the stairway. 


CHAPTER VII. 


When the hostile fleet of the allied European 
powers had been two ^nd a half days at sea 
President Tempest decided to get into the 
game, so he quietly gave the tip to the boys 
down at Sandy Hook that it was time for the 
submarine destroyers to be on the move. Out- 
side of the strategy board few people, Social- 
ists or non-Socialists, had so much as heard a 
rumor that the potentates of the Old World, 
aghast at the victories of Socialism in the 
United States and realizing their own impend- 
ing doom unless the proletarian movement over 
here should be crushed at the outset, had hur- 
riedly marshalled the pick of their navies and 
the power of their armies with the instruction 
to turn back, at whatever cost in human lives, 
the on rushing tide of democracy. The former 
captains of industry and the military and civil 
chiefs of the old oflBcialdom had heard the glad 
tidings and praised the fates for that blessed 
touch of fellow-feeling which makes the whole 
world of privilege loyal kin in time of sore dis- 
tress, had toasted continental royalty and 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


133 


drunk confusion to the dreams of agitators, 
and had prophesied the utter overthrow and 
swift destruction of the upstarts who preached 
and, for the moment, practised the prepos- 
terous and pernicious doctrines of equality and 
fraternity — telling themselves that a coalition 
of anti-Socialists at home and the disciplined 
troops of Europe’s war-lords must rout the red 
rag of Socialism as the whirlwind scatters 
chaff. But this joyful intelligence the down- 
and-out leaders did not hand out to the crowds. 
They knew that the Socialist executives must 
necessarily be cognizant of the powerful fleet 
approaching as rapidly as steam and wind and 
tide could urge it, yet they appeared strangely 
apathetic in the face of their certain doom. 
There was no massing of troops to repel in- 
vasion ; there was no effort to man and fit out 
the warships, to drill the necessary crews — in 
fact there was no apparent effort on the part 
of the Socialists to do any of the myriad things 
demanded of those who take by force and who, 
if they are to retain, must hold by force. The 
situation was simply anomalous and the antis 
were compelled to charge it up to the stu- 
pidity of the ‘^anarchists” who had to all intents 
and purposes bitten off more than they could 
swallow. Instead of doing the things that even 


134 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


the crudest intelligence must recognize as im- 
perative for a successful revolutionary party 
the Socialists were actually devoting their mili- 
tary genius to ripping up and seeding millions 
of acres of western prairie ! It was the apothe- 
osis of asininity and the down-and-outers let it 
go at that, whetting their appetites meanwhile 
for the coming proletarian feast and devising 
countless schemes to profit by tfie reconstruc- 
tion. When that “puer robustus sed malitio- 
sus,^" the “common” people, had been uncom- 
monly well thrashed for his presumptuousness, 
all the most obstreperous revolutionists having 
meantime been put to death, the harpies of 
commercialism planned to keep that trouble- 
some “common” boy down where, in their 
opinion, he belonged. Thus they planned and 
dreamed their dreams of the future and already 
in their optimism they saw in full blast again 
the interrupted pastime of dollar-chasing and 
lamb-fleecing. But, just as it is said to be only 
a step from the sublime to the ridiculous, equal- 
ly facile was the transition from flamboyant 
optimism to pessimism. 

For, truth to tell, the continental allies — 
those bristling bulldogs of famous pedigree 
that could bite, as well as show their teeth — 
had developed symptoms of “cold feet.” Or 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


135 


SO, at least, it appeared. They were overdue. 
They were three days overdue. They hadn’t 
even taken the trouble to send a wireless mes- 
sage of regret ; or if they had it had got tangled 
up with the wrong ethereal current. 

And the Socialists planted corn out West and 
said nothing. 

European royalty was routed out of its 
downy bed to listen to a cabled tale of woe. 
And royalty was warm under the collar. Its 
unsympathetic answer was in substance : 
Fudge ! and more fudge ; twice as much fudge. 
Cold feet! Jamais! The bulldogs’ feet were 
all right. That was a cinch. Perhaps a trans- 
port had broken a shaft — or a warship’s piston 
had gone wrong — or a cylinder had — oh, fudge ! 
Would the fleet be expected to continue on its 
way? Or would it wait for the cripple to re- 
pair the damage? What earthly difference 
could a day or two make — besides, was not fleet 
number two already on the way? 

Thus royalty; and the days, as we all used to 
sing in Sunday school when we were young 
and not yet disillusioned, were gliding swiftly 
by. And, after an immemorial fashion of theirs, 
they kept on gliding swiftly by. The first sec- 
tion of the allied squadron was not only ten 
days overdue, but the second section was a 


136 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


truant on the high seas. While it was an indis- 
putable fact that propeller blades, shafts and 
pistons could not be considered perfect, any 
more than could the erring mortals who cast 
them, it was still evident that, allowing the ut- 
most latitude for the divinity that is supposed 
to hedge a royal guesser, it was almost time for 
royalty to guess again. 

It was at this interesting juncture that the 
Socialists further complicated the situation by 
cutting of¥ all communicaion with the outside 
world. 

Then everybody had a guess. 

And nobody guessed any oftener or more 
frantically than those whose august and un- 
easy heads supported the crowns of Europe. 
From a sublime confidence that the punitive 
expedition was proceeding in good order 
against the international foe, in spite of some 
necessary and trifling delay, the war-lords be- 
came tortured with dark and indefinable fore- 
bodings of disaster. Frenzied, racked with 
nameless fears, they bombarded the Canadian 
authorities with cablegrams. Canada could 
throw no light upon the question of an allied 
fleet that had become lost, had strayed or been ^ 
stolen. It was not her fleet and she did not 
share their anxiety — at any rate she did not at 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


137 


first. She was inclined to be facetious and in- 
timated that she could prove an alibi if ac- 
cused of sequestering the fleet. Later, when 
she discovered that the Socialists had cut off 
all communication with her capitalistic friends 
down in the States, she was mystified and grav- 
itated to the ranks of the guessers. 

And one guess was as good as another. It 
was an inexpensive amusement and anybody 
could take a shot. The only drawback was 
that the bell wouldn't ring if somebody should 
accidentally happen to hit the bullseye. 

The little innocent-looking cloud upon the 
political horizon that continental rulers and 
military chieftains had hitherto referred to as 
Socialistic hot air began to assume an ominous 
importance. Socialism began to be almost re- 
spectable. 

From a state of nerve-racking, shuddering 
suspense that grew more terrifying with every 
passing hour and affected everybody and every- 
thing, from throne to hovel, Europe passed into 
the panicky period of her seething unrest. 
Stocks, bonds, consols, securities of every sort, 
came tumbling down with a crash that shook 
the card houses of finance as if a seismic shock 
had passed and kingdoms, empires, principali- 
ties and thrones swayed and rocked in sym- 
pathy. 


138 WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 

There was a hurried and distracted confer- 
ence of the war-lords, the upshot of which was 
that another fleet, larger than either of the 
preceding two, was assembled in hot haste and 
dispatched after the others with instructions 
to proceed with the utmost caution, signalling 
the Continent repeatedly by wireless messages 
until off the coast of Labrador ; then to estab- 
lish a wireless station on shore under military 
guard and send hourly bulletins to this station 
until approaching the New Jersey coast; after 
which, depending upon circumstances, commu- 
nication with Europe by cable was to be estab- 
lished as soon as possible, and the line kept 
open at all hazards, if it took the entir^ invad- 
ing force to accomplish it. There w_as to be no 
more suspense. Europe was to know the worst 
and the best and the latest, whatever might be 
the import of those superlatives, and was to 
know it all of the time. 

The departure of the formidable third flo- 
tilla of transports and its imposing convoy of 
iron-clads (which impressed into the service 
the bulk of the remaining transatlantic liners, 
together with many of the passenger steam- 
ships flying the flags of the Mediterranean and 
East Indian companies, and left Europe practi- 
cally defenseless in the matter of modern war- 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


139 


ships) seemed to temporarily arrest the finan- 
cial panic. If only there had been a fourth 
flotilla to be turned against the unspeakable 
Socialists! Then indeed the money sharks of 
Christendom would have breathed easier, prais- 
ing God from whom all blessings flow and from 
whom, to complete the anology, all catastro- 
phies may be supposed to derive their initiative. 

And still the Socialists planted corn in the 
golden West and hadn’t a word to say — just 
as if wars and rumors of wars and invading 
fleets and such things had never been invented ; 
they started new towns and tore down old 
ones; they laid out parks and planted and 
transplanted trees under the direction of fa- 
mous landscape gardeners who planned for per- 
ennial and enduring beauty, unhampered by 
the petty and sordid greedy the thousand-and- 
one insuperable difficulties, the endless con- 
flicts that arise under private ownership of 
land. Moreover, pretty nearly everybody 
seemed to be a Socialist. With an enthusiasm 
that was scarcely to be expected old and young 
of all sections devoted their energies to the 
task of reconstruction. 

They planted corn, and sawed wood and said 
nothing: and the elaborately studied silence of 
the strategy board was a thousand times more 


140 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


effective than columns and pages of editorial 
bluster and boastful prophecy would have been. 
It invested the leaders with a halo of respect 
that fell little short of the uncanny. While ap- 
parently devoting their whole attention to in- 
dustrial and economic problems the revolution- 
ary chiefs preserved everywhere and to the last 
vestige the civil and military authority; they 
anticipated and foiled their enemies’ plots; 
they swayed the popular sentiment with mar- 
velous skill and inaugurated far-reaching poli- 
cies of state ; and last, but far from least, they 
were earning the somewhat invidious distinc- 
tion of being in league with the devil to the ex- 
tent of winning bloodless and supernatural vic- 
tories at sea — although everybody knew they 
had not been to sea. And this reputation did 
not in the least suffer impairment when, having 
apparently won tw8 such victories, they began 
to be suspected of bringing off a third ; for the 
latest squadron to leave the shores of Europe 
was overdue and unaccounted for. 

Then the microbe of international democracy 
began to get busy. Always a vigorous and har- 
dy culture, for it had survived the extermina- 
tory processes of many centuries, it now began 
to multiply with inconceivable rapidity in its 
vastly more favorable environment. From a 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


141 


State of proscription and active hounding by 
political bacteriologists it emerged from multi- 
tudinous obscure corners and boldly assumed 
the aggressive. 

Disastrous and terrifying as was the effect 
of the disappearance of the third squadron upon 
the capitalistic crowd over here, it was a mere 
bagatelle to the cyclone of rage and despair 
that swept over Europe and racked her rotten 
and moribund states to their decaying cores. 
Barring Russia, whose own domestic condition 
was in such chaos that she could not even think 
of outside disturbances, much less take a hand 
in them, not one of the first-class powers es- 
caped frightful penalties for officious and un- 
warranted butting-in. It was not alone the loss 
of one hundred and fifty of the finest battle- 
ships afloat, practically all of the magnificent 
ocean liners and more than a million men, all 
told — this was sufficiently appalling — but by 
giving the dreaded proletarian movement un- 
bounded courage and a fresh grip everywhere 
the reactionaries had dug their own graves and 
paved the way for the very conditions they had 
fatuously expected to avert. 

And at last, nearly a month after the disap- 
pearance of the first punitive squadron, the sea 


142 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


began to give up its ghastly secret, setting at 
rest all doubt as to the fate of the navy that 
was the pride and the reliance of European des- 
pots. The wind, which had prevailed off-shore 
uninterruptedly for many days, changed to the 
east and blew great guns, hurling the dead 
ashore in windrows and piling the wreckage 
high along the coast all the way from Halifax 
to Portland. 

And while ten thousand priests said masses 
for the souls of the dead soldiers and sailors 
and ten thousand surpliced choirs chanted the 
Miserere; while consternation seized upon the 
hearts of tyrants and bowed the heads of proud 
and haughty kings of finance ; while havoc and 
panic and disaster multiplied and grew by what 
it fed upon, the cause of the despised prole- 
taire was, looking up. Socialism had proved its 
right to be. 

“For Might is right when empires sink in storms of 
steel and flame, 

And it is right when weakling breeds are hunted down 
like game.” 

The principle is that of Evolution and goes 
on forever — but Might is vacillating and transi- 
tory, shifting with the fortunes of war now to 
one combatant, now to another. Otherwise 
must progress come to a halt. And Evolution, 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


143 


although progressive, takes no thought of prog- 
ress. It is inexorably impersonal, caring naught 
for combatants, nor right nor wrong nor the 
petty strifes and ambitions of the earth-race that 
in a few more cycles at the longest will sleep 
the everlasting sleep upon a planet whose life 
has been spent, and which wanders cold and 
frost-bound through the cosmos. 

Not a few philosophers found themselves at 
sea on account of the new alignment of politi- 
cal and economic forces. They had committed 
the blunder of trying to square evolution with 
existing intellectual heresies, instead of at- 
tempting to explain existing conditions in the 
light of evolutionary facts. To illustrate: 

President Tempest was at his desk at head- 
quarters one morning when a fashionably at- 
tired stranger of prepossessing appearance 
came in. He was carrying a sole-leather bag 
which he deposited on the floor. 

''Sir,’’ he said, addressing the president, ‘T 
take oflf my hat to you,” and suited the action 
to the word. 

‘Tf the dofiing of your head-gear be a mark 
of servility the commonwealth does not require 
it,” remarked the president, smiling pleasantly, 
'‘hut if it be merely a token of civility Consider 
the compliment returned with interest.” 


144 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


“vServility is not in my line/’ replied the other 
drily, “but, nevertheless, if you keep up your 
extraordinary policy of running the state in the 
face of a hostile Christendom we shall all have 
to pay tribute to your genius. However, that 
isn’t what I came here to say. I am at the 
forks of the road and know not whether to turn 
to the right or the left — not that I greatly care 
— but you and your revolutionary crowd have 
knocked my philosophy into a cocked hat. I 
am an evolutionist; I thoroughly believe in 
the doctrine of the survival of the fittest — 
meaning to me the strongest. Personally, I 
have hammered down and crushed whatever 
opposition I encountered. It was the game, 
as I understood it. I have succeeded. Which 
is to say, I imagined I had succeeded. I find 
I was mistaken — that I did not and do not 
know the game. It is humiliating. In this 
grip (he kicked the piece of baggage contemp- 
tuously) is all that I have so successfully striv- 
en for. It represents in bank notes, govern- 
ment and other bonds and securities, five mil- 
lion dollars. Not a vast fortune, measured by 
twentieth century standards, but 'amply suffi- 
cient for myself and family. 

“This morning I supplied myself with ade- 
quate coin of the realm and went over to one 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


145 


of the government stores to purchase what I 
required. They literally jeered me oi¥ the prem- 
ises. ‘What !’ I roared, ‘do you mean to say 
that this gold doesn’t go in any community un- 
der the sun where the monkeys have got up 
off their all-fours?’ Well — you must pardon 
my ignorance; I haven’t paid much attention 
to your programme, thinking it couldn’t last 
— it didn’t go there. I was told I needn’t come 
around until I could show a certificate for an 
honest day’s work at something useful. Now, 
is this sort of thing going to keep up ? I have 
a theory ” 

President Bill burst into a roar of ringing 
laughter, in which the capitalist joined per- 
force. 

“My dear sir !” he cried, “you are confronted 
with a condition, not a theory, as an illustrious 
predecessor of mine once remarked. Besides, 
your ideas on evolution are hazy. You may 
have hammered down opposition in the effete 
days that presaged the end of capitalism ; but 
you did not do it under the law of the survival 
of the strongest because that law was subject 
to another law — the law of injunction. You 
might have had the puniest antagonist, both 
mentally and physically, in the world. Yet 
if his pile had exceeded yours he could have 


146 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


bought an injunction from the courts and made 
your strength look like thirty cents. Of course 
that was only a counterfeit strength and the 
true law of evolution was temporarily suspend- 
ed; but during the suspension the injunction 
held good — it worked. For ages a so-called 
divine injunction has worked to hold back and 
abort the strength of the strong, to elevate the 
weak, the cunning, the tyrannical. Notwith- 
standing which I declare, and you must agree 
with me, that history does not record a time 
when the apparently helpless and exploited 
masses did not possess the real strength to put 
an end to tyranny and exploitation. For the 
first time in history the ‘strongest’, that is, the 
masses, are using their strength; and, having 
a common cause, they use it in common, unit- 
edly.” 

“But there’s a ‘nigger’ in the woodpile some- 
where,” said the capitalist. “The masses do 
not seem to be doing anything except work 
harder and more cheerfully than ever under the 
direction of your oligarchic council or strategy 
board or whatever you call it.” 

“The disappearing colored gentleman is in your 
own imagination,” declared the president. “My 
signed resignation is in the hands of the secre- 
tary of this board ; and in turn the resignation 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


147 


of each of the strategy board members is in the 
hands of the district committee which elected 
him. We are all subject to recall at a moment’s 
notice. The mere fact that we are here is the 
best proof in the world that we are making 
good ; that we are putting up the kind of gov- 
ernment called for in the specifications.” 

“Maybe so,” said the capitalist, only half 
convinced, “but what about this ‘wad’ of what 
I used to call the ‘needful’ and which it now 
seems is entitled to be called the ‘superfluous’? 
It represents my life-work and I have brought 
it here, thinking I might trade it off for some- 
thing substantial.” 

“Your pieces of painted paper never had 
other than a pseudo-fictitious value and they 
are now reduced to their proper function. They 
represented what the republic owed rather than 
what the republic had; they represented in- 
flation, credit, water, unearned increment, in- 
terest, blood, sweat, tears and groans; they 
were accursed and the curse can be removed 
only by repudiation.” 

“And will these various debts and obligations 
now be repudiated?” demanded with a fine 
scorn the indignant capitalist. 

“They most undoubtedly will be, so far as I 
have any voice in the matter,” replied the presi- 


148 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


dent. “But let’s see” — he added, “what value 
did you return to society for all those bits of 
engraved paper — what was your business?” 

“I was a stock broker; I gave my life to the 
acquisition of those bits of paper you hold in 

such contempt; I ” 

Again President Bill laughed melodiously 
and contagiously. “If -you were not such a 
solemn joker,” he said, “you would see at a 
glance that you returned no value whatever 
for them and that you are a criminal — a legal- 
ized criminal, oh, yes; but a crirriinal just the 
same — and that any system founded upon re- 
tributive justice, instead of altruistic justice, 
would condemn you to a penal institution until 
you should have expiated the crime.” 

The broker’s features wore a puzzled expres- 
sion. “The commonwealth,” he said, “has ex- 
propriated, or at any rate vitiated, my fortune 
— does it also purpose to seize upon my house, 

my furniture, my stables ” 

“Not at all, sir; it doesn’t seize upon any- 
thing you possess, unless you have somewhere 
real estate which you cannot or do not use.” 

“Why doesn’t it seize my house? — it is a 
far more pretentious and sumptuously fitted up 
residence than those occupied by millions of 
the victorious proletariat.” 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


149 


“Because, sir,’’ replied the president, “the 
law of expropriation applies only to those forms 
of wealth which are logically public property, 
in that their use is necessary to the comfort, 
happiness and well-being of all. Privately and 
personally used possessions, no matter how 
acquired, are not interfered with since it is rec- 
'Ognized that in a short time every citizen may 
in lavish abundance possess not only necessi- 
ties of existence, but also those things hitherto 
regarded as luxuries.” 

The broker stroked his mustache thought- 
fully. “Where do I fit in?” he inquired. “If 
I’ve got to earn my living you can set me to 
work as soon as you please.” 

“I think we may find a place for you some- 
where,” assured the executive. “There is no 
end of clerical work ” 

“Not for me — ” declared the other. “I want 
to get out into the country on a farm. It is 
where I have always looked forward to retiring 
when I had piled up enough millions to run 
one in good shape. You and your bunch of 
iconoclasts have shattered my beautiful finan- 
cial air-castle, but I shall, it seems, all the soon- 
er realize the ultimate object for which the 
castle was constructed.” 

“Just so,” agreed the president. “It is where 


150 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


I’m going as soon as we can get in shape to 
hold an election to provide my successor.” 

“Is that so, now?” queried the broker, beam- 
ing with delight to discover that they had a 
common hobby. 

“Sure as guns — think I’d live in a damned 
stuffy hole like New York if I wasn’t obliged 
to? I should say not.” 

“What shall I do with this ?” asked the brok- 
er, bestowing another savage kick upon the 
bag that contained his worthless millions. 

“Anything you like. Keep it for a souvenir.” 

“Hasn’t it any value whatever?” 

“Sentiment aside, no.” 

The capitalist opened up his grip. “Here is 
a package containing 250 thousand-dollar treas- 
ury gold certificates,” he said. “Now let’s have 
some fun. There’s a group of street arabs play- 
ing marbles or some other game down in the 
yard below. I’m going to toss this wad 
amongst them and see the scramble.” 

“There won’t be any scramble. Those kids 
know very well that bank notes are out of 
date,” declared the president. 

“Bet you a box of good cigars.” 

“Gambling is out of date as well as bank 
notes. Throw them down and you’ll find you 
are mistaken,” 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


151 


Out of the open window sailed the roll of 
magic lure that a few short weeks ago would 
have incited to every crime in the Decalogue 
and a few thousand other crimes not there 
enumerated. It struck the closely-cropped 
turf, rebounded and landed fairly in the cen- 
tre of the group of urchins. They glanced up 
at the building, but the conspirators had backed 
out of range. The latter peered cautiously over 
the window ledge to see what would happen. 

^‘Gee ! kids, git onto the mazuma,” cried one, 
tearing off the wrapper. 

‘‘Huh ! that ain't no good," retorted another, - 
making a vicious pass at the wad with his bare 
foot. 

‘^Aw — I know it ain't," conceded the first 
speaker, 'Tut I'm goin' to carry it home and 
tell me maw I'm Rockyfellow." 

"Say, fellers! I got er hunch," announced one 
youth on the edge of the crowd, producing a 
package, of cigarettes. "I'll give youse all er 
snipe an' we'll light 'em wit' t'ousand-dollar 
bills. Dey was er Willie-boy onct wot done it, 
an' he was de king-pin of all de high-rollin' 
swells on Fift' avenue — somebody gimme er 
match." I 

This idea met with instant favor and they 
lost no time in putting it into practice. Strut- 


152 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


ting and swaggering they pre-empted the near- 
est street corner and with exaggerated gravity 
and many solemn antics, so that the passing 
crowd might appreciate the full significance of 
the sacrifice, they lighted their cigarettes with 
the twisted rolls of bills, conspicuously strew- 
ing the sidewalk with the partially consumed 
paper that so recently had been mankind’s only 
god. 

“Well, I’ll be damned!” declared the broker, 
“that takes the wind out of my sail. If thou- 
sand-dollar bills have become cigarette lighters 
for street gamins the next thing we may look 
for is to see the preachers using the holy bible 
to stuff horse collars.” 

“That’s what we’re coming to.” 

“Good heavens !” cried the broker, “where 
and when is all this iconoclasm going to end?” 

“When the last fantastic popular image is 
shattered beyond patching up.” 

“And after that ” 

“After that,” said President Bill, terminating 
the interview, “the race will have time to set 
up and worship a new lot of images.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 


Headquart'Crs, Co-operative Commonwealth, j 
New York, July 4.) 

To THE Socialist Executive Committee 

OF Great Britain and All Loyal Com- 
rades — Greetings : 

For the first time in a century and a-third 
this anniversary of the beautiful, historical 
and much-needed walloping your swell- 
headed ancestors took at the hands of their 
rebellious kinsmen this side of the dividing 
pond has been ushered in without the ac- 
companiment of cannon, bells, fish-horns and 
fire-crackers. I have no word of condemna- 
tion or apology for the practice what time 
it lasted since the two nations were not only 
rivals in militarism and the subjugation of 
defenseless peoples, but were even keener 
rivals in the cut-throat game of commer- 
cialism. As long as nations exist solely 
for mutfial slaughter and extermination, 
whether by sword or industrial competition,’ 
it does not seem inappropriate that the vic- 
tors celebrate. Having removed ourselves 
from the battleground of international strife 
and jealousies, victory and defeat become 
alike impossible and meaningless; and such 


154 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


celebrations fall of their own inertia into 
moss-grown desuetude. 

I note with interest (not untinctured with 
amusement) that your Parliament, just pro- 
rogued after a stormy extra session, has, 
aided and abetted by the government, abol- 
ished the House of Lords; that the law of 
primogeniture is repealed; that some mil- 
lions of acres, heretofore reserved for the 
exclusive enjoyment of royal-blooded quail 
hunters, have been made accessible to the hoi 
pohoi on shockingly easy terms ; that the 
government has become extraordinarily pa- 
ternalistic — so mollycoddling, in point of 
fact, that it seems that not much of any- 
thing is too good for the poor, patient 
workingman ; and, finally, that the aforesaid 
poor and patient British proletarian, touched 
to the quick by so much condescension and 
solicitude (he has often in the past been 
touched to the quick by royalty, but never 
in quite the same way) is simply over- 
whelmed with gratitude toward his little- 
^ father-with-the-big-waist-band. Alas and 
alack ! It is well for the fisherman’s boy that 
he sings in his boat on the bay; and it is 
well for us over here that the British work- 
ingman has manifested the proper amount 
and quality of thankfulness toward his royal 
benefactor. Because if his reasoning had 
been reversed — if he had once tumbled to 
the fact that royalty was throwing over- 
board so much special privilege simply to 
keep itself from functioning as shark-bait — 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


155 


I for one should have dropped dead. And 
I don’t consider that I’m good enough to 
die just yet. There are on my conscience 
sundry sins of omission, although I am not 
at this time and place going to confess what 
they are. 

Well, when the proletaire anglais really 
decides that he would rather be an orphan 
and go it alone than to have even such a 
nice paternalistic papa as the kind fates 
have given him, maybe the commonwealth 
can hand him out a pointer or two. In the 
meantime God save his papa and him too ! — 
with the trite advice thrown in for good 
measure that, in case of ‘‘man overboard,” 
God mostly and more numerously saves 
those who are the best swimmers. 

And how fares the commonwealth? Just 
you ask it ! If you can find anybody over 
here who wants to go back to throat-cut- 
ting I’ll give him a first-class passage to Lon- 
don town. Say ! you’d consider me a reincar- 
nated Munchausen if I should attempt to de- 
scribe to you how smoothly _the Socialist 
band-wagon is running since the continental 
allies perished in that “tidal wave,” as Em- 
peror Bill of Germany says they did. He 
ought to know for he und Gott used to study 
out of the same book at school and have been 
tolerably chummy ever since. I consider 
it a rather scurvy trick, though, to play off 
upon an old chum like Bill. 

But although we are not today commem- 
orating the handsome drubbing our revolu- 


156 


V/HEN THINGS WERE DOING 


tionaries of the long ago gave to the minions 
of old King George the nation is neverthe- 
less en fete. We are taking a week or ten 
days off and everybody is on the hike, pic- 
nicking, feasting drinking, excursioning, 
with much brave tinsel, brass bands, oratory, 
red fire and flapdoodle. Why not ? The com- 
rades have worked heroically and accom- 
plished wonders during the short existence, 
to date, of the commonwealth. Our time is 
our own and if we want to celebrate our 
economic freedom there’s nobody to say us 
nay. We’re truly a happy family and hun- 
dreds of thousands of former exploiters of 
their kind are extolling the benefits of co- 
operation and wondering why the old sys- 
tem did not sooner cave in. 

I am not, however, going to wear out 
the cable with descriptions of our fraternal 
relations, the wonderful things we’ve done 
already and the far more wonderful things 
we are planning to do in the future. You 
must come over and see for yourselves, 
which you are herewith cordially invited to 
do at your first opportunity. 

With fraternal regards, 

William Tempest, 

(Pres’t. pro tern.) 

About a week after the forwarding of the 
above cablegram President Tempest and more 
than a hundred strategists and department offi- 
cials were assembled in the old Astor House, 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


157 


holding a jollification. It was 9 :30 P. M. and 
a five-gallon punch bowl was being drained and 
replenished with such surprising frequency and 
regularity that the more speculative guests 
were beginning to wonder how long the cellar 
would stand the run. And while the punch 
was disappearing and champagne corks were 
popping the topic on every tongue was Conti- 
nental Europe, whose kaleidoscopic metamor- 
phoses during the preceding month had been 
almost too rapid to follow. Out of the crash 
and wreck of staggering and falling empires, 
out of the chaos of bankruptcy, with credit 
gone a-glimmering to the stars above, out of the 
dust and smoke and flame and din, shoulder to 
shoulder, standing like a rock, their vision clear 
at last after weary centuries of being sport of 
kings : the proletariat were marching into their 
own. And before that steady, resistless host, 
aflame with the urge of immemorial wrongs, 
special privilege faded as morning mist before 
the wind. 

Between drinks they sang Socialist songs, 
roasted old-world royalty and spread them- 
selves in flights of extemporaneous oratory. 
Somebody had facetiously toasted Emperor 
Bill of Germany and while the comrades filled 
their glasses Cash Humboldt, the pre-eminent 


158 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


and undisputed leader of the strategist aggre- 
gation of warblers, improvised a parody on '‘Is 
It Warm Enough for You?” and, with brim- 
ming glasses poised high in air, the whole as- 
sembly roared out the chorus with a vim that 
rattled the windows: 

^‘Is it warm enough for you — do you think that it 
will do? 

And was the walking pretty good when they told you 
to skidoo? 

Will your heart turn to the Rhine in the good old 
summertime ? 

They’ve cut off your pay in Deutscherland — say! is it 
warm enough for you?” 

The last bars of the refrain had scarcely died 
away when a clamorous shout was raised down 
by the main entrance. “Oldrem ! Stevens ! 
Mercereau ! rah, rah, rah !” and as the three 
redoubtable strategists, accompanied by a tall 
and swarthy stranger, hove into view a perfect 
storm of cheering broke loose ; for the trio had 
not set foot upon American soil since they 
plunged into the sea Off Sandy Hook with the 
saucy little fleet of submarines to give battle 
to the mightiest of Europe’s floating Gibraltars. 
Their mission in that respect accomplished, 
they parted company with the rest of the fleet 
and kept right on across the water to take a 
hand in the social and political upheavals that 
racked the Old World from centre to circumfer- 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


159 


ence. The stranger was none other than Ber- 
tram Revenski, the intrepid and spectacular 
leader of the Russian Socialists. When the 
tumult of welcome, handshaking and congratu- 
lation had subsided and the punch bowl had 
been properly patronized, President Tempest 
rapped for order. 

‘‘Gentlemen,’’ he said, “it is a rare pleasure to 
introduce to you Comrade Revenski who will 
favor us with a brief outline of the progress 
our cause is making in the land that erstwhile 
has been characterized as Unhappy Russia. 
That the conditions which made for her wide- 
spread wretchedness and national unrest have 
been materially modified, if not altogether re- 
moved, is due to the remarkable personnel of 
a numerically small band of revolutionaries of 
whom Comrade Revenski is chief and who, 
practically unaided, have fought and won the 
battle of the Russian proletariat, reorganized 
the government and paved the way for liberty 
that is something more than a tyrant’s whim, 
justice that does not mock, equality that is not 
enforced by sabre and knout and fraternity that 
is worthy of the name.” 

With a slightly foreign accent but speaking 
in excellent idiomatic English, for his education 
had been completed at a British university, the 
distinguished Russian leader said: 


160 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


“Comrades — I am come to you out of the far 
Northland with a message of fraternity and 
good cheer. ‘Unhappy’ though we were — 
‘Darkest Russia’ indeed, we were stigmatized 
by a world that looked but yesterday with 
shuddering incredulity upon the vastness of our 
ancient empire, the cruel despotism of our war- 
lords, the degradation, sullen indifference, and 
hopelessness of our swarming millions, the 
barbaric splendor of our officialdom, the lights 
and shades, the contrasts, the dreams of scho- 
lastics that were our strength, the dreams of 
world-wide dominion that were our weakness 
— it nevertheless affords me a somewhat child- 
ish and egotistical satisfaction to proclaim 
that Russia (although you ran us a close sec- 
ond and furnished us, in sizmos, the golden key 
that unlocked the door of liberty) was actually 
the first of the nations to break the strangle- 
hold of capitalism. [Prolonged cheering.] 
“By an obsessed, a fatuous and venal church 
whose breath of life was the ignorance and su- 
perstitiori of the enslaved masses; by a hypo- 
critical and cruel state that had long ago by 
its tyrannies forfeited its right to be ; by a dis- 
credited press whose only law was the nod and 
beck of special privilege; by the millions of 
schemers who lived by cunning and ate their 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


161 


daily bread in the sweat of honest labor — we 
are accused of merely substituting one oli- 
garchy for another infinitely preferable, of tear- 
ing down in willful and wanton mania for de- 
struction venerable institutions we lacked the 
constructive ability to replace. 

“Be this as it may, no man in Russia today 
is living luxuriously off the toil of another man ; 
the only caste is the cast-iron enforcement of 
the law of equal opportunity for all, special 
privilege to none; unearned increment is a 
nightmare that has been exorcised by steel, 
purged by flame and drowned in the blood of 
sacrifice ; and throughout the length and 
breadth of czardom, but so recently over-run 
by the brutal flunkeys of militarism, the mil- 
lions of her disinherited children are turning 
with expectant eyes and grateful hearts toward 
the rising siin of Socialism, happy in the pres- 
ent and trustful for the future. [Cheers]. 

“And yet, when I contrast your orderly and 
bloodless revolution with the violence that ac- 
companied our own triumph over the forces of 
reaction, I am not only filled with a certain 
compunction for the many thousand human 
lives so prodigally fed into the red maw of the 
revolution, but our efforts by comparison 
smack of crudeness and a barbarity more in 


162 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


keeping with some remote age when the world 
was younger and men were demi-brutes. If, 
however, you will reflect that practically a 
fourth of the United States was Socialistic — 
in sentiment, at least — while we, with nearly 
double your population, depended for our fight- 
ing strength upon a scant two hundred 
thousand trusty comrades, nearly a third of 
whom were students not out of their teens, 
you will comprehend at a glance that our policy 
was necessarily drastic. 

“Plentifully supplied with the dread sizmos, 
whose detonation is so truly frightful that 
whole battalions drop dead from the violence 
of its concussion, our little handful of revolu- 
tionists made concerted demonstrations in all 
the principal centres of population throughout 
the empire. We struck at Authority wherever 
we found it entrenched and struck without 
mercy, as it had hitherto struck at us. 

“We struck at the royal palace and not one 
stone was left upon another; but the czar, the 
royal consort and their children, possibly 
through timely warning, more probably by 
mere coincidence, had just quitted the palace 
by a secret passage. 

“We demolished forts, military barracks and 
strongholds as easily as if their ponderous ma- 
sonry had been papier-mache, inevitably and 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


163 


necessarily slaughtering their garrisons by tens 
of thousands. It was cruel — ay; but it was 
our only way to compete with tyranny. Lack- 
ing the requisite numbers to overpower and dis- 
arm opposition, as did the comrades over here, 
self-preservation compelled us to destroy it. 
All the violently reactionary members of the 
aristocracy — the grand dukes, princes of the 
empire, Romanoff tyrants and proprietors of 
vast landed estates — shared the same fate. They 
had all shed proletarian blood in rivers and 
justice was vindicated rather than outraged 
when their blood was shed. 

^^These are the darker pictures of our strug- 
gle and victory over the vicious system that is 
everywhere meeting its Waterloo; and I gladly 
turn to the brighter page of world-emancipa- 
tion under the banners of international So- 
cialism. We are reorganizing in conformity 
with its principles. Our leaders are enthusi- 
astic, our scholars are grappling with the 
knotty details of programme and our masses 
are eager and hopeful. We are true esperan- 
tists. 

“Socialism is here and here to stay. It is 
scientific and in harmony with the workings of 
evolution, notwithstanding the dictum of soph- 
ists that it conflicts with the law of the sur- 


1G4 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


vival of the fittest or strongest. Such conflict 
does not nowadays exist outside of the per- 
verted imagination of apologists for a mori- 
bund system. For while it is inevitable that 
the strongest shall survive (if necessary at the 
expense of the weak) it does not follow that 
the strongest, having at hand in the utmost 
abundance the means of survival, shall never- 
theless persist in a continuous and senseless 
warfare for what may be freely had by all with- 
out a struggle. In other words it is no longer 
a question of anybody's survival. It is simply 
a question of distribution. 

“But you will pardon my discursive dialec- 
tics. I am arguing Socialism with you who 
have sounded all its “depths and shoals” as if 
I were addressing a primary class of Hotten- 
tots. Socialism is an accomplished fact. The 
nations of Europe are falling over one another 
to get into line. The red flag of international 
brotherhood will soon wave over the whole 
earth and international boundary lines will be 
forgotten. War will become a lost art and the 
struggle of a united earth-race will be confined 
to fighting earthquakes and mosquitoes, dodg- 
ing erratic comets and providing against the 
far-ofif but inevitable day when some innocent- 
looking joker shall get up in Sunday school 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


1G5 


and suggest that the government start a mint 
for the purpose of coining a medium of ex- 
change. [Applause]. 

^'Comrades, I thanh you for your courteous 
attention. I am only a transitory bird of pas- 
sage and tomorrow morning shall be flitting 
back to Europe where unfinished work is still 
cut out for me. I crossed the pond just to say 
Howdy; but if I must be more explicit will 
own that I was dying of curiosity to ascertain 
exactly how one of your little submarine per- 
suaders would behave down amongst the fishes. 
I would cheerfully turn encomiast, but they so 
recently spoke* for themselves that any flattery 
of mine, however fulsome, would be like oifer- 
ing you stale beer after filling you up on ex- 
tra dry vintage. Suffice it to say that it 
will be many a long day before another iron- 
clad pokes her nose out of a foreign port with 
a chip balanced jauntily on her figurehead. 

‘‘Again thanking you in behalf of the Russian 
comrades whom you so signally aided in their 
struggle for freedom, permit me in closing 
to assure you that when the roll of honor shall 
be made up — when the future monumental 
shaft commemorative of a world unchained 
shall be raised as high into the arching vault 
as mortals hands and human ingenuity can 


166 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


send it — carved highest of all on its memorial 
tablet that rests among the clouds will be the 
name of the Socialist Strategy Board of 
America — the comrades who did things while 
others talked and dreamers dreamed their 
dreams.” [Prolonged applause, followed by 
punch all round and ad libitum.] 

Over in one corner of the big reception room 
Oldrem, Stevens and Mercereau were holding 
an impromptu levee surrounded by a bunch of 
rooters who kept the atmosphere resonant 
with their encouraging plaudits, blue with 
tobacco smoke and vibrant with the noisy pop- 
ping of corks and clinking of glasses. Oldrem 
was in a particularly happy and communica- 
tive mood. 

“Yes,” said Swale, between drinks, “the capi- 
talistic hogs of Europe are on the run. Those 
famous Gadarene swine that you’ve read about 
wouldn’t get under the wire one, two, three. 

“When Stevens, Mercereau and I were armed 
by President Bill with our commissions as 
envoys-extraordinary and ministers-plenipo- 
tentiary to represent the new commonwealth 
at the courts of old-world royalty we decided 
to go by the subaqueous route. We chose that 
route because an astrologer had told us that 
the stars had warned him of the imminence of 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


167 


a succession of tidal waves. Sure enough, the 
stars had peddled out inside information, for 
we saw three gallant squadrons of brave, but 
foolhardy, soldiers and sailors overwhelmed by 
the predicted phenomenon. It was calamitous, 
but all we could do was to lie low. I think 
Mercereau said a prayer or two for ’em, though 
it didn’t seem to do much good. 

“Well — there’s no use crying for spilt milk 
or grieving for the water that has gone over 
the dam — we kept right on across the pond 
with our credentials. The first place we stopped 
at was Berlin. There we found things in 
joyous, though somewhat inextricable confu- 
sion. At the station we encountered a shoe- 
maker marching up and down the square. He 
was drunk us a lord and was followed by a 
crowd of four or five thousand. The whole 
outfit, led by the shoemaker, who had a truly 
remarkable basso profundo voice, for a little 
cuss, was singing ribald and revolutionary 
songs. We halted him. 

“ 'Where’s that Potsdam place ?’ we inquired. 

“ ‘Well,’ said the shoemaker with an unsteady 
lurch, ‘you are liable to find pieces of it most 
any old damn place. We blowed it up last 
night with that seezmouss, already yet;’ and off 
he staggered, roaring out the refrain of a highly 


168 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


treasonable ditty, the penalty for publicly sing- 
ing which a few weeks earlier would have been 
twenty years in the calaboose. 

'Oh, sizmos !’ we cried, 'what crimes are 
committed in thy name.’ 

“We found the whole city given over to feast- 
ing and mirth. Everywhere we saw the crowds 
celebrating in tumultuous joy their escape from 
a rule that had been labeled ‘divine’ but which, 
now that it was over, was more frequently de- 
scribed by a different adjective. Bands were 
playing in the squares. Socialist orators were 
spouting to the disenthralled multitudes, pro- 
letariat and bourgeoisie were bumping steins 
in the beer halls — in short, it was a replica of 
the scenes enacted over here when the titles 
^o special privilege were vacated by the So- 
cialist writ of ouster. 

“In the old army headquarters of the Em- 
peror’s guard we located Meyerhoff and the 
executive committee. There, surrounded by 
several thousand importunate burghers whose 
status quo had been lost in the recent political 
shuffle, and aided by most of the Socialist mem- 
bers of the old Reichstag, they were dispensing 
more justice in a minute than all the Hohen- 
zollerns, Guelphs, Hanoverians, Hapsburghers 
and Brandenburghs that ever lived and died 


WHEN things were DOING 169 

had dispensed in the sum total of their life- 
times. 

“Emperor Bill, the swaggerer, the poseur, 
had been given just twenty-four hours in which 
to put a fresh supply of starch on his upper lip 
and get off German soil. He had sailed for 
England accompanied, in the first place, by all 
the royalty, divinity and snobbery his yacht 
would accommodate; and, in the second place, 
by the jeering yells, taunts and maledictions of 
the hundred thousand or so overjoyed Social- 
democrats who had assembled to see him off. 

“We visited in turn Austria, Belgium, Italy 
and Spain. We" found the royal palaces closed 
for repairs. Their former occupants had gone 
to England for their health. Nobody had ev^er 
before imagined that the British climate was 
so salubrious for ailing royalty. Representa- 
tives of the people were in charge of the various 
and several governments, quiet and order were 
the ruling characteristics, contentment and hap- 
piness had supplanted the former struggle for 
existence and it is reasonably safe to say that 
it will be a long time before exploiters again do 
business at the old stand. 

“France we found peaceful, and contented, 
and well advanced toward her dream of the co- 
operative commonwealth. 


170 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


course it was simply impossible that we 
should come home without having paid our 
respects to the distinguished ruler of the 
empire for which the sun has such a liking that 
it never leaves it. Arriving in London we 
made our way to Buckingham palace and sent 
up our cards. After the necessary quantity 
of red tape had been unwound we were in- 
formed that his gracious kinglets would re- 
ceive us. An usher escorted us up the grand 
staircase and down a long corridor at the far 
end of which stood a gigantic and gorgeous 
flunkey, bewigged and powdered, with purple 
knee-breeches, yellow sash, and scarlet coat 
buttoned up to his chin, which was held at the 
proper angle by the highest and starchiest col- 
lar you ever saw. Perfectly motionless he 
stood, his red and beefy countenance sphinx- 
like in expression, his solemn eyes staring into 
vacancy. 

‘This looks as if we had to dig up before 
we get any farther,’ murmured Stevens, search- 
ing his pockets for a nickel. 

“ ‘Pinch him,’ advised Mercereau, ‘he’s prob- 
ably got a fit.’ 

“ But before this suggestion could be carried 
out the flunkey’s flaming countenance exploded 
in a long drawn ‘P-s-t ! Back hup !’ 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


171 


‘That sounds to me more like a signal to 
go ahead/ observed Mercereau, pensively. 

“ ‘You don’t get on to his curves/ declared 
Stevens. ‘He evidently means that the king 
has got his back up this morning.’ 

“ ‘W’en I ‘old the door hopen/ proceeded the 
gorgeous functionary, paying no heed to our 
remarks, ’ye’ll ’ave to back hup to the throne 
w’ere ’is gracious majesty awaits ye. Back 
hup, now, or hoff goes hall yer ’eads !’ 

“Saying which, he threw open the door and 
in we marched. 

“ ‘P-s-t ! Take hoff yer ’ats an’ back !’ fran- 
tically hissed the horrified lackey, but court 
etiquette wasn’t in our line. 

“ ‘How-do, Tummy,’ was Stevens’ plebeian 
salutation, as he advanced with cordially ex- 
tended hand. ‘We hope your majesty is feel- 
ing like a fighting cock this morning.’ 

“The fat little monarch drew himself up 
haughtily and complained in tones of deep dis- 
gust: ‘You people remind me of a bunch of 
Connecticut Reubs. To what do I owe this — 
er — extraordinary intrusion ?’ 

“ ‘You owe it,’ said Stevens, ‘principally to 
our sympathy. Considering the pack of royal 
bums you’ve got around you — seems to be a 
royal flush almost; a four-flush, at any rate — ' 


172 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


w^ thought we’d drop in and let you know that 
we feel sorry for you. We appreciate the fact 
that you are playing in hard luck. You must 
be down to your last stack of chips.” 

'' ‘By God ! I am in hard luck if anybody 
ever was !’ disconsolately and peevishly swore 
the monarch. ‘Nobody on earth knows how 
I’m pestered and hounded and bully-ragged by 
the string of also-rans that consider my palace 
a hospital for all the broken-down, string- 
halted, knock-kneed, spavined and short- 
winded royalty of Europe. You may call them 
a royal flush if you want^to — I call ’em a pack 
of discards, although every last one of ’em is 
a four-flusher, beyond a doubt. I’m getting 
sick and tired of it. Why, they want to run 
the kingdom for me ! — and that, after the piti- 
ful, holy show they’ve made running their own 
kingdoms ! Only last night that palsied freak 
they used to call the German Emperor, after 
having done me at poker out of a year’s income, 
had the gall to offer. to put up his winnings in a 
game of freeze-out for my throne ! The nerve 
of these thankless vipers is something fierce!’ 
concluded the wretched sovereign, brushing 
away a brace of scalding tears. 

“ ‘Never mind, Tummy,’ I put in consolingly, 
‘they’re jealous because you’ve got a crowd of 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


173 


jaspers that’ll stick by you through thick and 
thin — why don’t you lock ’em up in the 
Tower?’ 

'“Don’t call me Tummy!’ cried the king in 
a rage, 'that’s what that swaggering bully from 
Potsdam calls me; and the next time he does 
it into the Tower he goes. Because I’m his 
uncle he thinks he can be as fresh as he pleases ; 
but there’s a limit to the ties of consanguinity.’ 

"'Consanguinity is good; did you get that 
out of the revised version?’ I asked him. 

" 'Never mind where I got it. You Yankee 
pigs ar,en’t so smart anyway.’ 

"'We’re too modest to brag,’ I said. 

" 'Oh, damn you !’ he burst out in a passion, 
'your very presence here is nothing but brag 
and bluster. What do you want, anyhow? 
You’ve turned the rest of Europe into a slaugh- 
ter-house — have you come to debauch my peo- 
ple also?’ 

" 'If the gang of bloodsuckers your people 
are at present supporting do not incite to par- 
ricide, fratricide, regicide and suicide, I am 
positive that nothing we could say or do would 
have any effect upon them,’ declared Stevens. 

"'Well,’ retorted the monarch wearily, 'I 
don’t care what happens. It can’t be any worse 
than it is now. If I could put some of these 


174 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


discards to work I’d be willing to go to work 
myself/ He waved his royal mitt as a signal 
that the interview was terminated. 

‘Cheer up, Tummy,’ we said, as we quitted 
the royal atmosphere, ‘if worse comes to worst 
and we can do anything to help you out let us 
know.’ ” 

Then Stevens and Mercereau had to enter- 
tain the crowd with their impressions of life 
on the Continent, so that it was late when 
the gathering broke up ; but it is gratifying to 
be able to state that the cellar was equal to the 
demands made upon it, that nobody was 
obliged to go home thirsty and that none had 
cause to complain of either the quantity or 
quality of his entertainment. 


CHAPTER IX. 


It is autumn and the co-operative common- 
wealth has been established six months. Vast 
as are the changes that have taken place in this 
brief time they are merely an earnest of the 
incomparably grander ones in contemplation 
by an ambitious people whose efforts are no 
longer paralyzed by the mill-stone of compe- 
tition. 

Perhaps the most noteworthy and significant 
feature of the co-operative regime, so far, is 
the mental metamorphosis, so to speak, of the 
erstwhile opponents of Socialism, not one in 
ten thousand of whom would dream of going 
back to the former wasteful, unsound and 
profitless economic and industrial lottery 
where the prizes were so few and the wretched- 
ness so complete. Opposition had not been 
crushed or frightened into submission: it had 
simply died a natural death when divorced from 
the reactionary literature it fed upon and, hav- 
ing immediate and tangible proof of the bene- 
fits of the new system, it had faded away as 
fades eventually the memory of a disturbing 


176 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


dream. It was fear that had kept alive the 
hideous and unending battle of place and 
power — a fear and distrust inherited from the 
long ago when a primeval earth-race fought 
ceaselessly in the struggle for survival. With 
the cessation of the struggle vanished the fears 
to which the struggle had in the first place 
given rise. Moreover, as the problem of ex- 
istence lost by elimination its haunting terror 
the racial energy which had been so con- 
spicuously misdirected, encouraged to the limit 
as it was by a signally altruistic press, turned 
impetuously to enterprises of such magnificence, 
utility and beneficence that the sordid pursuit 
of dollar-grabbing, as previously practised, ap- 
peared not only inexcusable, but tame and 
puerile beyond expression. 

Another remarkable phase of the brief try-out 
of Socialistic principles was the way the ques- 
tion of compensation had been settled. Or, 
more strictly, had settled itself. It had always 
been the bane, the crux, the despair of even the 
most advanced and clear-thinking of the Social- 
ists themselves to work out a theory of remu- 
neration that would be absolutely, or even ap- 
proximately, just and satisfactory to all. And 
in addition to being the rock upon which So- 
cialists had split into factions whose one com- 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


177 


mon ground was that they agreed -to disagree, 
it had been the shining target for capitalistic 
jibes an.d sneers without end ever since the 
philosophy of Marx obtained sufficient vogue 
to be at all noticed by its opponents. 

How would the lazy and inefficient, the shirk- 
ers, drones and parasites be recompensed com- 
mensurably with their productivity or lack of 
productivity? In view of the undeniable fact 
that superiority in quantity or quality of produc- 
tion destined for the collective, use should re- 
ceive superior reward over mediocrity or inferi- 
ority, how would or could a pay-system based 
upon the labor-hour as a unit equalize these vari- 
ant, several and multifarious talents, capacities 
and results so that, without discrimination, each 
should receive his proportionate share? — and if 
it couldn’t be done who or what could allay or 
prevent widespread popular discontent? Fur- 
thermore, it being self-evident that some occu- 
pations, after making all possible allowance for 
variations in taste, are more desirable than 
others, who would be assigned to the undesirable, 
though perhaps equally necessary, tasks? Or, 
granting that a sort of civil service based upon 
percentage in examinations were adopted, how 
about the preponderating millions whose ser- 
vices as common laborers would put them out- 


178 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


side of the classified lists? Who or what would 
keep them contented with their prosaic drudgery 
while others reveled in “snaps?” And how, 
with all workers actually as well as theoretically 
equal, would the hard-working farmer, whose 
occupation was most important of all, be con- 
tented to wear coarse raiment and dwell in a 
humble farm cottage, while kid-gloved dudes, 
whose labor-product was infinitely less valuable 
to society, enjoyed the best of everything and 
lived in elegance? 

Such are a few of the myriad questions pro- 
pounded by the scoffers, and Socialists themselves 
had never felt quite clear as to some of them, for 
they involved considerations of tactics and pro- 
gramme that were subject to an infinite variety 
of conditions and would have to be threshed 
out separately as they came up in actual prac- 
tice and pressed for solution. 

But, as intimated, they had thus far appeared 
to adjust themselves almost automatically and to 
the satisfaction of everybody concerned. The 
revelation came while the strategy board, assisted 
by the ablest talent it could draw upon, was 
losing sleep in the laudable, if futile, endeavor 
to formulate a working schedule of hours and 
a general scale of wages (payable in labor- 
checks) that should be at once comprehensive. 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


179 


scientific, equitable, generally- applicable and, 
not least in importance, satisfactory to the great- 
est number. In the intensity of its zeal the com- 
mittee had traced man from his earliest history 
to modern times, had ransacked every philosophy 
under the sun and investigated every system of 
political economy extant in the vain hope of 
somewhere finding the key to the riddle that 
seemed equally perplexing and elusive. Not con- 
tent with this the ‘‘Esperantist,” the official or- 
gan of the board, had sent out the call for volun- 
teer opinions and suggestions. In response to 
this call a young fellow out in the department 
of Kansas, a civil engineer, sent in what ap- 
peared to be the solution they were looking for. 
A portion of his communication is appended: 

Ever since the middle of May I have been 
connected with the “flying” engineering 
corps, as it is locally called, on account 
of its erratic and itinerant movements. Dur- 
ing this time we have surveyed more than 
a hundred townsites and numerous branch 
railroads in widely scattered sections of this 
department of the commonwealth. It is of- 
ficially estimated that more than thirty mil- 
lion workers, or more than half our adult 
population, have been engaged in the depart- 
ment sometime during the season and I 
. have made the most of my somewhat excep- 
tional opportunity to mingle with these peo- 


180 WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 

pie and ascertain their views on questions 
of paramount importance as affecting the 
successful operation and stability of our new 
departure in the line of government. Now, 
while I am probably too young and inex- 
perienced (22) to have formed very de- 
cided political opinions, the philosophy of 
Socialism had never particularly appealed 
to me and I will confess to serious misgiv- 
ings as to the practicability of its tenets 
at this period of our national development. 
And although my previous sentiments have 
undergone a radical change, I realize that 
upon our determination of the questions 
raised in your referendum to the people rests, 
for some generations to come at least, the 
fate of the co-operative principle itself. 

Having in the meantime become a pro- 
ponent of Socialism I cannot, without the 
gravest apprehension, contemplate a change 
from our present and most satisfactory re- 
gime of laissez faire to any system of hard 
and fast rules by which the enthusiasm that 
now animates the people may turn to dis- 
cord, jealousy and petty dissensions without 
end. 

Under what may be described as Social- 
istic, or non-competitive, anarchy — if indeed 
our present anomalous industrial condition 
can be expressed in terms of comprehen- 
sion — we are united and happy. A most 
quixotic spirit of emulation pervades all de- 
partments of workers. The ego of the 
race has for the time being dropped com- 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


-181 


pletely out of sight and the hearts of the 
nation are beating rhythmically in anticipa- 
tion of the splendid material achievements 
outlined by President Tempest in his several 
proclamations. And at this crucial mo- 
ment, when individualism and selfishness 
have yielded to considerations of national 
aggrandizement, to attempt to measure this 
altruistic zeal of the masses in terms of 
the huckster — so much remuneration for so 
much inspiration — appears to me most haz- 
ardous. We are doing things. We are 
working together — all our heterogeneous me- 
lange of colors, races, creeds and condi- 
tions — and our aim is national achievement, 
national regeneration and national glory that 
taxes no other nation to support. Why, I 
have this summer observed thousands and 
tens of thousands of comrades working eigh- 
teen and twenty hours a day because of their 
eagerness to finish some needed improve- 
ment. And this spirit is general, not sporadic. 

In some future day when the vast public 
works in contemplation are nearing comple- 
tion and the workers have abundant leisure 
to foster jealousies and selfishness, I can 
imagine a situation calling for state interfer- 
ence and regulation. ***** 
now, however, the commonwealth is, without 
fuss or feathers, usurping the functions once 
attributed to deity: which is to say, it is 
building a new earth. If the job when 
completed be sufficiently satisfactory who 
can say whether it will not also attempt 


182 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING' 


a new heaven? But if heaven be not a place 
at all — merely a state of mind — perhaps we 
have it now. 

Fraternally yours, 

Clarence Byers. 

The upshot of this communication was that 
the president referred the proposition to the 
whole country and appointed a day for balloting. 
Laissez faire was carried overwhelmingly. It 
was, of course, understood that the question 
could be resubmitted at any time by petition. 
Meanwhile, it was also understood that every- 
body was entitled to make requisition upon the 
general stores for anything in reason he or she 
could use, that the word luxury was stricken 
from the lexicon, whatever was desired being 
regarded as a necessity, up to the capacity of the 
commonwealth for turning it out. Moreover 
there was nothing in the constitution against in- 
creasing the capacity of any plant until it should 
prove adequate to meet the demand. As a mat- 
ter of fact the government had thus far been so 
liberal in providing for and anticipating the 
wants of the populace that many millions of 
former wage-slaves, accustomed as they were 
to the most wretched daily fare and poverty- 
stricken surroundings, so far from being both- 
ered with any troublesome unfulfilled longings, 
merely wondered in a dim, pathetic way, char- 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


183 


acteristic of their kind, how long their paradise 
would last before going bankrupt. 

Perhaps of all the metamorphoses under co- 
operation plantation life, which is the evolution 
of the old-time farmer’s existence, furnishes the 
most striking example of progress, as it cer- 
tainly offers the most normal and healthful pro- 
gramme of outdoor occupation and at the same 
time the attractions, distractions and recrea- 
tions of city life — a sort of rus in urbe, or per- 
haps more accurately, urbe in rus combination. 
To describe one of these plantations would re- 
quire a volume in itself ; but, superficially, a plan- 
tation consists of a block of land twenty miles 
square with its townsite in the centre of the 
tract. Rapid-transit railways and swift auto- 
barges transport the workers to and from all 
sections of the plantation. Power-driven ma- 
chinery of various types does all that machin- 
ery can do and thqse who work in the forenoon 
have the afternoon to themselves and vice 
versa. 

The towns at these centres are, or when com- 
pleted will be, models of beauty and utility, 
modern in every respect, fire-proof, sanitary and 
luxurious. Kankakee, near the old town of that 
name in the one-time state of Illinois, is farthest 
advanced toward completion and a brief de- 
scription will be given. 


184 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


The site contains sixteen square miles, or in 
other words is four miles square. In the centre 
of the square is a park of 640 acres, a square 
mile, and near the centre of the park is an ar- 
tesian well — an automatic gusher — its own force 
carrying the water up to the immense glass tank 
more than ninety feet in air. The tower that 
supports this tank is of singular architectural 
beauty and is a landmark for many miles around. 
It has a steam service connected to prevent freez- 
ing in winter and a cold storage attachment to 
chill the distributing pipes in summer. 

At each corner of this park is an immense 
public building — a mammoth department store 
in which is carried everything under the sun; 
a magnificent town hall on another corner; a 
heat, light, power and cold-storage plant on a 
third corner and on the fourth the public 
garage. 

Back of the department store which, with its 
numerous warehouses, covers thirty acres of 
ground, is the handsome railroad station; and 
beneath the station is the subterranean net-work 
cf freight and passenger tracks, the freight 
sheds, platforms and elevators — for all the rail- 
roads centering in Kankakee approach by an un- 
derground viaduct three hundred feet wide, 
twenty-five feet high and perfectly lighted in 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


185 


daytime by prismatic glass reflectors and at 
night by electricity. This viaduct extends en- 
tirely across the city from east to west and be- 
neath the- station and general storehouses is in 
places three-quarters of a mile wide. 

No street in Kankakee is less than two hun- 
dred and fifty feet wide, many are five hundred 
and the boulevards, one of which entirely circles 
the town, are eight hundred feet in width. All 
are laid with a new composition in which are 
blended asphaltum, tar, crushed stone and a pe^ 
culiar red clay from the Minnesota banks of the 
Mississippi. The result is a tough, durable com- 
pound having a slight resiliency. It is far less 
brittle and slippery than the old asphalt or con- 
crete roads. 

The sidewalks are one of the striking novel- 
ties of the town. They are from thirty-five to a 
hundred feet wide, according to the width of the 
street, are of pressed and glazed brick of con- 
trasting colors — old blue, dark red, buff and pure 
white — laid in various fancy patterns like tiling 
and have, on account of their oddity of conceit, 
attracted much comment, mostly favorable; yet 
some have criticised it as smacking too strongly 
of vanity. At all events the good matrons and 
maids of the town have thus far evinced a reli- 
gious zeal in keeping them spotlessly clean, play- 


186 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


ing the hose on them frequently during the day. 

There are at present a dozen large hotels hav- 
ing a capacity of from one thousand to five thou- 
sand people. Some are for transients, some for 
families and others are bachelor quarters for 
both sexes, and still others a combination of the 
two. The aim is to afford variety enough to 
suit all tastes and requirements, so far as a public 
establishment can fill the bill. For those to whom 
none of these accommodations appeal there are 
always clubs; and after that there are private 
homes where one or two or more may live as 
retired as he or she or they may choose. In- 
deed it is a matter of record that nearly a third 
of the families prefer to run their own estab- 
lishments, while the single adults of both sexes 
and a variety of ages prefer the companionship 
and gaiety of communal life. And while the old 
adage about birds of a feather has not lost its 
force under co-operation, notwithstanding the 
fact that democracy is actual and complete and 
no distinctions smacking of caste or privilege are 
permitted, there is far less friction than might 
naturally be looked for. It is of course inevi- 
table that a fastidious stickler for etiquette should 
now and again, to his unutterable horror, find 
himself sitting at table beside an uncompromis- 
ing barbarian whose early training had encour- 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


187 


aged the reprehensible habit of satisfying hun- 
ger with a knife instead of the conventional 
fork, together with other gaucheries of unmis- 
takably plebeian origin; but such instances are 
comparatively rare owing, on the one hand, to 
natural selection and, on the other, to the fact 
that there is in the settlement a school of de- 
portment, most punctiliously patronized by nu- 
merous delinquents, where are taught those 
outward forms that are not improperly regarded 
as evidence that we have outgrown the cocoanut- 
throwing stage of our evolutionary advance. 

Another feature of the town is its gymnasium. 
It covers ten acres, has every modern equipment, 
including tennis and hand-ball courts, swimming 
tank, running tracks, down to a winter baseball 
park with glass sides and roof and seats for 
twenty-five thousand fans and rooters. This is 
not, however, the only concession to the national 
game, as there are six more perfectly appointed 
ball grounds in as many different parts of the 
city. Indeed in the matter of games and sports 
young America is catered to as nowhere else in 
the world. Tennis, cricket, lacrosse, golf, bowl- 
ing and billiards, a skating rink, dancing pa- 
vilion, toboggan slide and many other diversions, 
both outdoors and in, are liberally provided for 
the youngsters whose hardy frames and vigorous 


188 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


health already attest the wisdom of the policy. 

There is a grand music pavilion seating forty 
thousand and a crack-a-jack band of a hundred 
pieces, conducted by a famous baton-wielder, to 
furnish the class of music necessary to attract 
the forty thousand there. There are also five or 
six more musical aggregations calling themselves 
brass bands, but until they either disband or 
learn to play with somewhat greater proficiency 
the less said about them the better. 

Half a dozen theatres devoted to histrionic 
and operatic art are well patronized by the crowds 
and one in particular, a vaudeville show re- 
cruited from local talent and known as The 
Ham, hangs out its S. R. O. shingle every night 
in the week. No joke antedating 'the Flood is 
supposed to be perpetrated in this haunt of the 
muses and graces; but perhaps, after all, the 
secret of its popularity lies in the fact that every 
seat in the house is equipped with a patent fold- 
ing table whereon are served hot or cold, hard 
or soft drinks, pipes, tobacco and cigars, accord- 
ing to individual fancy. Shocking? Not a bit — • 
not when you get “onto” the Kankakee curves. 
For while it is a fact that any adult may indulge 
in an endless assortment of liquid refreshments 
there is an ironclad and remorseless penalty for 
those who abuse the privilege. The first exhi- 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


189 


bition of weakness is followed by a three months’ 
drouth. The second offense condemns the de- 
linquent to ' the water wagon for six months. 
The third infraction is penalized by a year’s ab- 
stention and so on in the same ratio until four 
years (the maximum penalty) is imposed. Then 
the erring one starts out with a clean slate and 
repeats, unless he has meanwhile learned to con- 
trol his appetite; but it will be readily under- 
stood that, granting for argument’s sake anl 
entire lack of self-control, the most unfortunate 
and inveterate drunkard could not thus become 
an overwhelming nuisance to himself or any- 
body else since he could over indulge but five 
times in nearly eight years. This rule was 
adopted by the community, not to look at, but to 
be enforced, and up to date it has been enforced. 
However, there is no disposition to further pe- 
nalize the victim of appetite by social ostracism 
or otherwise. It is recognized as a weakness 
and the unfortunate one is protected against 
himself. That is all. There are many substi- 
tutes for alcohol compounded of harmless chemi- 
cals, unfermented fruit juices, etc., of which the 
blacklisted one is welcome to swallow a barrel, 
if he can hold so- much; but spiritus frumenti is 
taboo. He knows it and so does everybody in 
the community. 


190 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


Minors, moreover, are not allowed to use al- 
cohol beverages or tobacco in any form. 

There is another attraction that is probably 
unique — assuredly on so magnificent a scale of 
exposition. It is called “Cosmos” and thither of 
a Sunday night resort thousands of students, 
dreamers, speculators, philosophers, the idly 
curious, and all who ever pause in the conven* 
tional routine long enough to consider, however 
lightly and carelessly, the speck in the universe 
upon which we dwell for a brief space, its rela- 
tion to the planetary system of which it is a cog- 
nate part, its infinitely smaller and less under- 
stood relation to the myriads of glittering orbs 
that flash and wheel world without end — all who 
ever pause to ask, however flippantly. What are 
we, and whither do we rush through illimitable 
ether on the wings of the wind ? 

The auditorium has a seating capacity of ten 
thousand. The stage, in an effort to realize the 
grandeur of the subject, has been constructed 
two hundred feet wide, four hundred feet deep 
and one hundred feet high; but these figures 
give no adequate conception of its possibilities 
unless one recalls the magic of stagecraft and 
scene-painting by which on an ordinary little 
stage the clever application of the rules of per- 
spective has enabled the audience to apparently 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING . 191 


look across many miles of rugged mountain 
scenery, rolling prairie or billowy sea, distance 
being practically annihilated. Add to this the 
fact that the cleverest stage carpenters and 
scenic artists in the world, working under the 
direction of a famous astronomer, have been in 
charge of the scenery and stage properties — and 
the reader may faintly grasp the immensity and 
possibilities of the scheme. 

One night, the lecturer, standing upon a lofty 
platform and speaking through a megaphone, 
will thrill his audience with the wonders of our 
own solar system, each planet of which is faith- 
fully and accurately reproduced, both as to com- 
parative size and motion, diurnal and annual, 
as it rolls on its endless path around the central 
luminary — illustrating the phenomena of day 
and night, the seasons, the laws of attraction and 
gravity, the play of force upon matter — ex- 
plaining the physical and other characteristics 
of our lunar satellites, her actions upon the tides, 
and why her soft refulgence falls upon the earth 
always from the same side of her cold and bar- 
ren surface whereon the volcanic upheavals of 
remote ages have left their fantastic panorama 
of mountain, plain and valley. 

Another night, his lecture, graphically illus- 
trated by colored electric lights and all the real- 


192 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


istic accessories of our inventive age, will carry 
the imagination back to the very birth of our 
planet, according to the generally accepted 
theory of the nebular hypothesis. The awe- 
stricken multitudes behold the planet on fire, 
flames leaping high in air, bursting rocks falling 
into boiling seas, volcanoes hurling their debris 
from molten, spouting craters; yet the whole 
mass obeys the law of gravitation in its flaming 

track through space The lights go 

out A million years elapse 

The world is the same — and yet how changed! 
Although the equatorial regions are still hissing 
hot, the mass has cooled, shrunken, solidified. 
Around the poles the vegetation grows rankly 
toward the clouds of mist and steam that en- 
wrap the globe. The external heat is subsiding 
— the crust is cooling — but away from the poles 
volcanoes still belch and spit their molten tor- 
rents unceasingly. ..... And so on, down 

through the various geological periods 

until, cycling calmly on her way, appears the 
planet of today — snow-capped mountains, rivers, 
forests, plains, vast cities, railway systems, roll- 
ing seas dotted with craft flying the flags of all 
nations. 

Again the splendors of the heavens in all their 
glorious majesty — the milky way, the giant con- 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


193 


stellations, the countless groups and systems, the 
dead and active suns, their satellites and stellar 
coryphees — are thrown upon the screen before 
the wondering crowds in the gorgeous colors 
which the spectroscope has revealed to those 
whose lives are passed in contemplation of the 
starry spaces. 

In all there are twenty lectures, each having 
its appropriate setting, but more are in prepara- 
tion ; and if the inhabitants of Kankakee, old 
and young alike, do not presently absorb more 
evolutionary and planetary science than they 
ever before dreamed of it is certainly their own 
fault. Nothing more inspiring and practical 
than these entertainments is conceivable. As the 
lecturer stands on his platform high above the 
auditorium, his sonorous tones floating down 
through the megaphone, a subtle spell, a fasci- 
nation almost mesmeric, a sense of the vastness, 
harmony and beauty of the universe, obsess the 
most indifferent; and the impression does not 
readily fade. 

Other public buildings are the postoffice, li- 
brary, art museum, university of languages and 
classics, a technical institute and a dozen more 
elementary, preparatory and manual training 
schools, all accommodating many thousand stu- 
dents. There is also a large and perfectly ap- 


194 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


pointed hospital, but its usefulness is mostly con- 
fined to looking ornamental as sickness is rare 
and no accidents of unusual importance have as 
yet marred the even tenor of life in the planta- 
tion. 

Two classes of public buildings are conspicu- 
ous by their absence. There are no jails in town 
and the stranger would vainly hunt for the fa- 
miliar church spire. For the former no pro- 
vision is made, the consensus of opinion being 
that if a person cannot live in Kankakee and re- 
strain any violently vicious and criminal ten- 
dencies, inherited or acquired, his proper place is 
with Ihe penal colony, a desolate island in the^ 
South Seas where a few score incorrigibles al- 
ready reside — that is, if they haven’t killed each 
other off like the Kilkenny cats, a consumma- 
tion which would probably not to any great 
extent convulse the existing social order. As 
for churches, there is nothing in the city char- 
ter or the constitution to prevent the construc- 
tion and maintenance of any number of them. 
Up to date, however, no society, or the nucleus 
of such society, has proposed plans and specifica- 
tions for the erection of any edifice consecrated 
to theology. As a matter of fact it is strongly 
suspected that the worship of an intangible and. 
more or less hypothetical and problematical 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


195 


deity will not be anything like as popular as it 
was when there was more to be gained by it, 
when a premium, so to speak, was put upon 
outwardly conforming to a modified paganism 
because it was popular and upon performing, 
from motives of policy, numerous other intel- 
lectual stunts. 

In regard to private residences there are at 
present some four thousand charming yillas and 
cottages erected ' and occupied by families and 
small clubs or groups of workers to whom hotel 
and community life is wholly or partially distaste- 
ful. And new building permits are constantly be- 
ing granted. The widest latitude of choice pre- 
vails and everybody is expected, even encouraged, 
to select the environment best suited to his tem- 
peramental and other peculiarities. 

All buildings, public, private, of whatever na- 
ture and purpose, are considered practically fire- 
proof. Their exterior construction is pressed 
and glazed brick, glass, stone, reinforced con- 
crete, or a handsome, patent adobe — all on a steel 
framework — while the interiors are finished in 
natural woods, hard and soft, sheet steel, pressed 
and stamped, beautiful stucco clays in natural 
tints, etc. The central plant furnishes heat, light 
and fuel to every house and, as if this were not 
sufficiently paternalistic on the part of the city 


196 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


fathers, every living and sleeping room in town 
is amply provided with cold-storage pipes for 
artificially reducing in summer temperatures un- 
duly ambitious to climb their highest. 

In fact, Kankakee, the first new town under 
co-operation to even approximately approach 
completion, is easily the premier city of the world 
whether considered for architectural beauty, sani- 
tation, comfort or any other desirable character- 
istic. None but the human animal, flying things 
excepted, is allowed upon the truly magnificent 
thoroughfares — horses, dogs, cats and other ani- 
mal pets being banished elsewhere. Its sewer 
system is simply perfection ; garbage and all 
useless waste matter is cremated daily in a plant 
outside the city ; all electric wires, telegraph and 
telephone lines, and service pipes of whatever 
nature and intent are buried in their own sepa- 
rate conduits which are of a size sufficient to 
enable workmen to walk upright and make re- 
pairs or install additional service; and no car 
track disfigures its streets, an abundance of auto- 
mobiles furnishing transportation to the city 
limits where electric roads branch off to every 
part of the plantation. 

Such in brief is Kankakee, the town, but of 
the 256,000-acre plantation whose workers the 
town was built to shelter in comfort, lack of 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


197 


Space forbids an adequate summary even. Wheat 
and corn, barley, oats and rye are its staple 
crops ; but many thousand acres are also devoted 
to orchards, small fruits and truck gardening. 
The crowds are carried to and from work by 
rapid electric roads ; steam or electrically driven 
machinery is used wherever it can be to advan- 
tage and thousands of horses and mules are quar- 
tered in commodious barns scattered over the 
plantation where are also the tool and imple- 
ment sheds. The harvest this fall is a bountiful 
one. It will be the same next fall and every 
other fall, because the comrades trust neither in 
God nor luck, nor soothsayers nor amulets nor 
other charms to ward off pestilence, famine, 
drouth or insect enemies. The drouth they pro- 
vide against by an adequate irrigation system. 
The other contingencies are met and overcome 
by scientific methods, unceasing vigilance and 
hard work — the latter being so divided among 
the thousands of toilers, however, that it is a 
pleasure rather than a burden. 


CHAPTER X. 


Work, that fantastic mythological curse popu- 
larly imagined to have issued by divine injunc- 
tion against the race when the world was young, 
seems to have lost its stigma now that it has been 
dissociated from caste — now that the toiler has no 
longer to work for a ‘‘dead horse” or divide up 
with the drones of society at the good old popu- 
listic ratio of sixteen to one, the drone appropri- 
ating sixteen parts to labor’s one. So far from 
being the curse tradition has painted it labor, re- 
lieved of the odium of supporting upon its break- 
ing back the ' Atlas of profit, rent and interest, 
becomes the only panacea for mental and physi- 
cal unrest, the vade mecum of the blase, the le- 
gitimate outlet for the constructive energy of the 
genus. Properly divorced from its monotony 
by a corresponding season of relaxation it is at 
once the inspiration and excuse, the sine qua 
non of rational existence upon the planet. And 
as in bygone days it was the chief end of life to 
escape it, so now, the curse having been exor- 
cised by the co-operative principle, labor be- 
comes the natural and inevitable expression of 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


199 


happiness, ambition and altruism, the physical 
channel by which the ideology of enfranchise- 
ment attains its realization. 

Yet, while the thought of labor awakens dread 
in none, twentieth century ambition, evolving 
vast schemes of national aggrandizement, impa- 
tient for the consummation of its ideals, turns 
to invention as parched fields turn to rain. 

For instance, in view of the many million miles 
of practically indestructible highways required 
by the new commonwealth, it was evident that 
former methods of road-building would prove in- 
sufferably tedious. So the mechanical experts 
invented a machine calculated to relieve the situ- 
ation. More accurately, it was a set of road ma- 
chines, consisting of a 150,000 horse-power 
grader, a 75,000 horse-power distributor which 
followed the grader and distributed the crushed 
stone and concrete filling and. a 150-ton roller. 
This combination, supplemented by crushers of 
greatly enhanced power and a new automatic 
concrete mixer, enabled the '‘highwaymen” to 
build more superior roads in a day than twice 
the number of workers used to construct in a 
month. 

This grader is also useful for railroad work 
since with irresistible force it scoops out cuts 
and fills depressions, automatically throwing the 


200 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


dirt ahead of its powerful shovels or depositing 
the displaced material to the rear or to one side, 
at the will of the operator. 

And the new railroads resemble even the best 
of the old ones much the same as the latter re- 
sembled the early efforts of the late Mr. Stephen- 
son in the field of steam traction. The only ex- 
tensive piece of road thus far complete and in 
running order is the eastern section of transcon- 
tinental highway between New York and Chi- 
cago. Straight as a chalk line almost every foot 
of the way, this new four-track line is a marvel 
of engineering when compared with any previous 
attempt of the sort. It is not only straight ; it is 
level as a ballroom floor the whole thousand 
miles. This is the design of the roadbed : a solid 
rock-ballasted foundation, leveled up with con- 
crete; on this are laid steel cross-ties, and bolted 
to the ties are steel rails of enormous weight ; 
after which, allowing due space for the flanges 
of the car wheels, the whole is buried in Port- 
land cement. Two tracks are for passenger and 
mail trains which easily cover the distance in 
five hours, electricity being the motive power, 
and the other two are for fast freight of perish- 
able nature, live stock, etc. 

Having completed the road a third of the 
way across the continent, the construction 


•WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


201 


''gang” is pausing only to take a long breath. 
By Christmas it expects to reach the foothills 
of the Rockies and thereafter progress will be 
comparatively slow, but incomparably rapid, 
nevertheless, when contrasted with previously 
existing methods of tunneling mountains. As. 
an indication, at least, of the optimism which 
pervades the engineer corps the following ex- 
tract (taken from Chief Engineer Leffingwell’s 
recent address before the Chicago Society of 
Mechanical Arts) is appended: 

"We are really doing things. * * * 

masses, released from the economic slavery of 
competition, are devoting their energies to im- 
provement of the planet on a scale hitherto im- 
possible because of an absurd superstition that 
our material, social and industrial advancement 
depended upon how much of a certain tawny 
metal we could discover and appropriate from 
Nature’s laboratory. A very brilliant idea, that 
— but happily we have now so far outgrown it 
that not one in a thousand of those who most 
profited by the economic delusion would at pres- 
ent defend its perpetuation. It is true that in 
the past certain epochs of history have been 
characterized by achievements of surpassing 
beauty, utility or grandeur — such as the mag- 
nificent cities, temples and pyramidal mauso- 


203 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


leums of ancient Egypt; the time-defying archi- 
tecture of the Greece of long ago ; the im- 
perishable monuments of the Roman empire — its 
viaducts, art treasures and storied piles — even 
the long forgotten Aztecs of our own hemisphere 
built a chain of mountain roads that the inter- 
vening centuries have left practically unimpaired. 
But these are reminders of what might have been 
rather than, as many have supposed, typical of a 
civilization that marked the apex of man’s am- 
bitious performance, architecturally and aesthet- 
ically considered. Out of the sweat and blood 
and groans of countless wretched slaves the chef 
d’oeuvres of antiquity have been wrought. Every 
sculptured pillar, every classic column, every 
carved entablature, every arching dome, every 
capital, every stone — has been laid under the 
taskmaster’s cruel lash by the victims of fire and 
sword and conquest. Their gorgeous temples and 
palaces looming in the foreground have served to 
hide, but not obliterate, the squalid huts of pov- 
erty and despair that filled the background thick 
as autumn leaves. Founded in rapine, carnage, 
spoliation, exploitation, murder, lust and tyr- 
anny, their civilizations went down in blood and 
fire ; and today the desert sands are blowing over 
many of their proudest monuments of a glory 
that h^s passed away. 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


203 


“But we— we will turn down the blood-red 
page of history and begin anew. We will profit 
by their failure — else were history vain. Their 
evanescent glory was the glory of one-man rule, 
the exaltation of tyranny and the abasement of 
the multitudes. For every masterpiece of art 
that despotism has bequeathed to the world the 
co-operative commonwealth will complete and 
leave to posterity a million. Where tyranny has 
beautified the earth in spots co-operation will 
cover the planet with loveliness. Where they 
have left us one enduring highway we will 
girdle the globe with highways and bands of 
steel, over the land and under the sea until — who 
can say? — the time may come within our own 
generation when the sensation-seeking traveller 
can leave New York in the morning and be back 
at the same hour the next morning, having in 
the meantime completed the circuit of the globe — 
to the everlasting disquietude of poor little Puck 
who will begin to wonder how long it will take 
him to become a back number. Utopian ? Hardly ; 
we are already running experimental trains on 
a special track at the rate of a thousand miles 
an hour and such a speed will in the not very 
distant future be maintained between New York 
and San Francisco. But if we can make such 
time between these cities,- why may we not event- 
ually encircle the earth at the same rapid pace ? 


204 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


“But this recalls me to my mutton — what I 
came here to tell you about tonight is our hercu- 
lean task of tunneling the Rockies at their base 
and the truly marvelous machinery with which 
we expect to accomplish it. My assistant will 
now throw upon the screen a biographic likeness, 
showing the giant machine attacking a solid 
ledge.’’ The rest of the pro- 

fessor’s scientific and entertaining lecture need 
not here be reproduced since, unaccompanied by 
the illustrations, much of its force would be 
lost. In substance it set forth the difficulties 
to be encountered in tunneling the three hundred 
and fifty miles of the Great Divide and the 
mountains beyond at a level in no case exceeding 
by more than 3,500 feet that of the sea itself; 
and, while he did not wish to go on record as 
a prophet, the lecturer intimated that through 
trains would probably be running within five 
years or less. 

And — to further illustrate the “dead and dreary 
level” to which Socialism was erstwhile and 
popularly supposed to directly lead, crucifying 
incentive and paralyzing initiative — the hopelessly 
commonplace people are already arguing, one to 
another, that if one can stretch a small string (a 
telegraphic cable for example) between two hemi- 
spheres it is not beyond all peradventure that 
a somewhat larger string might be substituted 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


205 


with correspondingly gratifying results; or, to 
state it more practically, if not more concretely, 
they are looking forward to the day when a series 
of wrought iron and steel tubes, stretched from 
continent to continent and supported where neces- 
sary by pillars of masonry built up from the 
floor of the sea, shall span the mighty oceans 
and function as a medium for transporting with 
inconceivable rapidity a cosmopolitan earth-race 
from antipodes to antipodes, and back again, 
at their royal democratic pleasure. 

Beg pardon ! — did somebody remark that if the 
earth-race had nothing under the sun to do but 
enjoy itself promiscuously and haphazardly it 
wouldn’t be at all necessary to go about it with 
such an everlasting rush? The gentleman is 
reminded that surplus energy, like murder, will 
out. If it be deflected from dollar-chasing it 
will necessarily pursue a loftier ideal since it 
could not well find a more debasing one. 

In a thousand ways the energy of a free peo- 
ple is manifesting itself. The question of mere 
physical sustenance is met by the bountiful har- 
vest of agricultural and horticultural fruits of 
orchard, field and vineyard which, under the su- 
pervision of experts, has filled to bursting the 
national granaries and storehouses. Once freed 
from the economic heresy which paradoxically 


206 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


postulated that the more foodstuffs and other 
stuffs a country shipped to other countries the 
more prosperous were the shippers, the problem 
of existence becomes vastly simplified, and life 
has few of the drawbacks and winter none of 
the terrors inseparable from the “competitive 
swim” in which the average swimmer breasted a 
current that carried him down stream two feet 
while he was gaining one. Existence having thus 
grown wondrously kind, the next problems were 
those of transportation and communication. They 
are a necessity of modern life. That they should 
be installed on a scale commensurate with mod- 
ern requirements is as natural as that, under 
private ownership, they should have been main- 
tained as death-traps and dividend-producers. 

In the matter of national parks and landscape 
gardening at points where Nature has been prod- 
igal of her scenic charms the most riotous and 
altruistic imagination could scarcely conjure more 
entrancing artificial loveliness than has been 
planned throughout the commonwealth, from 
Portland, Maine, to Portland, Oregon ; from 
Savannah, Georgia, to San Diego, California. 

Of all the innovations growing out of the 
change of government none is more striking 
than has taken place in the domain of manu- 
facture. Cheapness, substitution, shoddy, veneer. 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


207 


adulteration, inferiority (whether of material or 
workmanship) are unknown. Everything is made 
to use instead of to sell and the artisan who 
should through carelessness allow his product 
to fall short of the best in his particular line 
would soon be transferred to a more congenial 
task since it is held that none is properly em- 
ployed whose occupation is not a jealous mistress, 
demanding and receiving the best that in him 
lies. It is also held that out of the diversity 
of occupations presented for individual choice 
everyone of normal disposition and instincts can 
select his metier. For the abnormal and de- 
fective, if not of criminal tendencies, the utmost 
allowance is made. They are recognized as the 
product of an environment that was itself de- 
fective, and their protection is regarded as the 
duty of the society which was responsible for 
their presence. 

The fascinating science of aerostatics is also 
receiving no inconsiderable attention. As long 
as the earth-race shall exist, as long as the dis- 
tant planets shall flash and glow in space, pre- 
senting their ancient riddle, man’s bold dream of 
finally compelling their secrets will never cease 
to thrill and urge him on. It may be that he is 
foredoomed to failure. It may be that Nature, 
in her immutable and unfathomable scheme, has 


208 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


written her “thus far” just without the pale of 
mortal ken; but daring minds will none the less 
aspire and the ingenuity of the genius, undis- 
mayed by any number of defeats, will continue to 
exhaust the range of possibilities in the absorb- 
ing quest. That many planetary bodies besides 
our own are inhabited by intelligent beings is 
with most scientists a foregone conclusion. To 
establish communication with these universals, 
personal or even by signal, is so superlatively 
desirable that nothing of human interest, except 
our own survival and propagation, is at all com- 
parable. The last word about refraction has 
not yet been said and the spectroscope offers 
almost illimitable possibilities. The hopes of as- 
tronomers are even now centring on a new tele- 
scope whose power is promised to far exceed any 
optical instrument of the kind heretofore in use. 
Its extraordinary lens, the invention of a profes- 
sor in Marx university, while not new in princi- 
ple, is nevertheless an innovation in the applica- 
tion of well-understood principles. It will be 
mounted in southern California where the dry and 
cloudless summers present particularly favorable 
opportunities for observing the heavens. It is 
calculated that under the most auspicious at- 
mospheric conditions this instrument will bring 
the moon within a few miles of the earth. It 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


209 


may be that in course of time, even if we cannot 
overcome the difficulties in the way in inter- 
planetary navigation, we shall be able to bring 
some at least of the planets down to us through 
the magic of optical science. 

Not only in the above specified instances but in 
a million unspecified ways does the populace 
refute the oft-repeated argument that Socialism 
would destroy incentive, ambition and individual 
initiative. In point of fact there can be no sur- 
passing amount of either energy or ambition to 
destroy, in a people willing to put up with the 
hollow mockery of existence under capitalism 
any longer than is absolutely necessary. That 
a movement which was as much an intellectual 
as an economic one (the desire to be free is 
one of the main postulates of freedom) shQuld 
have been accomplished by force — minority force 
at that — was certainly against it. Its signal suc- 
cess simply proves that the winter of popular 
discontent was slowly smouldering under the 
ashes of a deceptive indifference, ready to burst 
into the glorious summer of revolt at the first 
favorable opportunity. But all’s well that ends 
well; and as the first six months of co-oper- 
ation pass into history, rounded out by abundant 
harvests, good will and fraternity everywhere: 
all is quiet along the Potomac and elsewhere, up 


210 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


and down the limits of the commonwealth. Wars 
and rumors of war, seem already to have faded 
'from the minds of men. Rolling in plenty, 
secure in the conviction that exploitation of man 
by man is at an end, no horribly grinning night- 
mare of poverty and want disturbs the race as 
it sleeps on the bosom of old Mother Earth while 
she rushes on her immemorial way around the 
sun. Without lock or bolt or bar it sleeps ; 
for with the passing of the system which suckled 
it as the lioness her whelps, crime, too, passed 
away. Or nearly so. The only crimes are those 
of sex. The hates, the loves, the burning jeal- 
ousies, the heartaches, the despairing throes of 
those who adore and are scorned, of those who 
licentiously covet, of those who are fickle and of 
those in whom the animal predominates, cannot 
all at once be regulated by legislative enactment, 
by the dictates of reason, or by the mere substi- 
tution of governmental order for governmental 
anarchy. These passions are elemental and are, 
in greater or lesser degree, characteristic of the 
entire race. When abnormally <^eveloped they 
will, like any other abnormality, operate as in- 
termittently disturbing forces. With the gen- 
eral adoption of a more scientific dietary which 
shall largely exclude ‘‘hot and rebellious’’ liquors, 
animal flesh, the wilderness of drugs, mineral 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


211 


salts, condiments and powerful acids with^ which 
'we are only too prone to handicap our long- 
suffering internal economy, we may in course 
of time emulate our humble quadrupedal and 
bipedal friends, the lower animals, whose instincts 
in the matter of sex-control seem a far more ad- 
mirable guide than our reasoning faculties. It is 
only fair, however, neither in derogation of our 
above-mentioned humble friends, nor yet in ex- 
tenuation of our own shortcomings, to acknowl- 
edge that with equal temptation they might have 
fallen almost as deeply into the mire as we are im- 
bedded in the mud. It is their good fortune that 
they cannot imitate our truly vicious dietary, not 
to mention other irrationalities. Otherwise it is 
highly probable that more animal homes would 
be broken up than ever Socialism was by its 
enemies accused of trying to disrupt. 

Under the co-operative commonwealth the 
mothers of the nation are accorded a status of 
absolute equality, socially and politically, with 
their husbands and brothers. Monogamy is, of 
course, the ruling custom. Polygamy is not only 
a violation of natural law and in contravention 
of sex-freedom ; it is the invention of tyrants to 
recruit their armies. Hedged about with the 
mystic clap-trap of religious rites it speedily 
develops into a cult the inevitable result of whose 


212 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


ascendency is still further to enslave and degrade 
woman. Under conditions even approximating 
equality of the sexes it has no earthly show of 
establishing a foothold. As long as the race 
shall endure and the green earth rotate there 
will be broken vows, inconstant lovers and more 
or less promiscuity of the sexes. But these 
derelictions are not necessarily criminal — they 
may or they may not lead to crime. One thing 
is sure: the commerce of the sexes (commerce 
is most appropriately descriptive of sex-relations 
under the capitalistic regime) can never again 
descend to the huckstering level typical of the 
bargain-counter days when women openly sold 
themselves for gold or titles, flaunted their 
charms in the market-place to be snapped up by 
the highest bidder, or were compelled to eke 
out starvation wages by a traffic as loathsome 
to them as it was economically necessary. 
Henceforth the sexes will mate under the law 
of mutual attraction and that alone is a guar- 
antee that the earth will be peopled with a su- 
perior race. 

Laws there are and will continue to be; but 
the people, having had a surfeit of law and 
lawyers, will in this respect consider paucity 
preferable to redundancy. What few laws shall 
from time to time be found necessary will be 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


213 


made in the interest of and approved by a sub- 
stantial majority of the people, who may at any 
time rescind, revise or expunge inefficient laws, as 
well as enact new ones. Being enacted for the 
welfare and preservation of the masses instead 
of as a club to be used by the classes, there 
will be few loopholes and still fewer instances 
of double ' entendre, tergiversation, circumlocu- 
tion, ambiguity or unnecessary prolixity, and any 
schoolboy of average mentality will be able to 
understand them. Therefore, no professional in- 
terpreters will be required. But in any case 
these cannot thrive outside an atmosphere of 
graft. And graft is sleeping in the valley where 
the gentle zephyrs play. 

. And while such are a few of the results 
achieved in the United States the economic and 
revolutionary changes elsewhere in the world 
are scarcely less radical. Canada has politely,, 
yet vigorously withal, declined to be longer 
worked by the ruling “clawses” and is out in the 
open, flying the colors and voicing the hopes of 
international democracy. 

Mexico has held the sack for Senor Special 
Privilege as long as she cares to ; and in the nest 
of warring republics further south one more 
revolution didn’t count, anyway, so the long 
exploited peons, pueblos and vulgos threw it in 


214 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


for good measure, and at last accounts the capi- 
talistic puercos were making for the underbrush 
with the surrounding atmosphere full of ma- 
chetes and banderillas. 

Across the Atlantic the several states of con- 
tinental Europe are in their own way realizing 
the benefits of the co-operative principle. Petty 
jealousies and racial and religious differences 
are thrust as far into the background as could 
reasonably be expected ; but the transition from 
divine-right rule to democracy is too recent to 
even consider the advisability of suddenly oblit- 
erating those artificial and superfluous boundaries 
which have stimulated a “patriotism” as real as 
it was disastrous. Time alone can soften the 
asperities born of fratricidal struggle, heal the 
bitterness and heartache engendered in those 
whose territory has been conquered by the sword, 
exorcise the rankling fires of animosity cunningly 
kindled and fanned to flame in days gone by 
by those whose interest it was to sidetrack unani- 
mous proletarian action by dividing the workers 
and setting them at one another’s throats. But 
the proletariat is rapidly learning to estimate at 
their true value those tricks of the foxy masters — 
complete unanimity is in sight. 

In Asia, too, a wonderful transformation has 
taken place. The economic shift of twentieth 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


215 


century financiers from the gold standard to 
the renunciation of any old standard, so far as 
concerns the minting or printing of money, is 
reflected in the frantic efforts of hereditary and 
divine-right potentates to discover where, if 
anywhere, they stand — whether they are afoot 
or on horseback. That their thrones are rapid- 
ly becoming a doubtful and precarious asset for 
the purpose of further exploiting the already 
awakening millions of the continent that was 
young and vigorous, that reached its spectacu- 
lar prime and grew old and went to sleep before 
Europe had even ruffled the page of history: 
is a fact sufficiently patent to cause a drop in 
the price of throne-lumber. 

Turkey is in the seething cauldron of unrest, 
browned to a turn on one side by the fastidious 
chefs of the social democracy who hopefully 
declare their intention of cooking the other side 
while the cranberry sauce is stewing on the 
hob. That they are roasting the bird in its own 
blood is only an illustration of the way they 
do things over there. It is a style affected by 
the royal patrons of the dish rathei: than a fa- 
vorite recipe of the much-exploited chefs. 

And India — unhappy India ! — ^groveling in 
the dust so long that she had forgotten initia- 
tive, forgotten pride, forgotten all but the sup- 


216 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


pliant’s plaintive whine; cursed by a philoso- 
phy that is the apotheosis of fatuity and the 
personification of despair; kicked and cuffed 
into submission by an- alien army of beef-eat- 
ing swashbucklers and starved to a skeleton 
that an alien master, intensely hated and just 
as intensely feared, might riot in shameless 
superabundance; the legitimate prey of im- 
perialism, destiny and a faking priesthood — 
even she, the discredited outcast among all 
the nations of the earth, is taking heart of 
hope. Where grows the honeysuckle there sips 
the bee — or words to that effect — and, con- 
versely, where there is no honey to be extracted 
the swaggering mercenaries of imperialism do 
not linger long. The golden and mellifluous 
stream of graft is shut off at the main spigot 
and imperialism itself is, to use a metaphor 
more expressive than elegant, too dead to skin. 
From all of which it is not unreasonable, per- 
haps, to prophesy the dawn of a brighter day 
for les miserables of the Orient, the non-resist- 
ing, patient fatalists who yet contain within the 
national character the faintly burning, but in- 
extinguishable, fires of a genius as pyrotechnic 
as ever flashed across the page of history. 

Perhaps of them all Japan was the hardest 
hit. To say that she’ was ""'up in the air” is a 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


217 


mild statement of the rage, disappointment and 
perplexity that strove for adequate expression. 
To be awakened out of the sleep of ages and 
told to get into the game as played so skill- 
fully by the overlords of the Occidental civili- 
zation, a civilization which had long ago left 
the Flowery Kingdomites standing still at the 
quarter pole; to learn the game and get into 
the race and run like a greyhound, forging 
ahead with a meteoric burst of speed that made 
her Occidental rivals get busy with quirt and 
spur — and then to be informed that the game 
was passe and the race declared off! was a con- 
dition of things as an offset to which all the 
theorizing in the world had a pale and bilious 
complexion. In other words, if so soon her am- 
bitious dreams were to be done for, what the 

were they begun for? It is more difficult 

for her to unlearn than it was for her to assimi- 
late her lesson in strenuosity. But she’s com- 
ing on — nobody can accuse the little brown 
men of being unduly dense — and soon special 
privilege and exploitation will be as discredited 
over there as they are in other parts of the 
world The foregoing briefly indi- 

cates the status quo; and while international 
co-operation is being joyously acclaimed from 
sea to sea, from pole to pole, the wires are car^ 


218 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


rying abroad the news of the presidential elec- 
tion in the Co-operative Commonwealth of 
America. In spite of his desire to retire from 
public office, President Tempest has succeeded 
himself. His plea that, having aided to the 
best of his ability the world-wide and success- 
ful proletarian revolution, he was entitled to a 
rest from the cares and responsibilities of pub- 
lic life was met by a whirlwind of clamorous 
protest on the part of millions of the contrary- 
minded, supplemented by an avalanche of bal- 
lots that buried his good intentions a mile deep. 

“For an old wire-puller like me,” said Presi- 
dent Bill to Mercereau, commenting on the 
election, “I certainly put my foot in it.” 

“How do you make that out?” inquired his 
brother-in-law. 

“I wasn’t foxy enough,” replied the presi- 
dent. “Being truly anxious to get out of office, 
I should have pretended to be crazy for the 
nomination — that would have let me out, all 
right.” 

“Don’t you fool yourself,” replied the other, 
“if they think you want it they’ll keep you at 
the helm for the rest of your natural life. That’s 
what it is to be a popular idol.” 

“Your think-tank has gone wrong,” declared 
President Bill with conviction. 


CHAPTER XI. 


The following extracts are quoted from the 
‘‘Friday Afternoon’^ lecture delivered before 
the pupils of the high schools of the common- 
wealth by Prof. Manton, being one of the series 
of week-end talks by eminent educators, philos- 
ophers and scientists who collaborate with the 
board of education. It is not contended that 
there is anything new or original in subject- 
matter or method of presentation. The only 
novelty lies in the fact that under the old 
regime the mentors, sponsors and guardians of 
youth, in respect to the intellectual pabulum 
dosed out to the rising generation, were ap- 
parently vastly more concerned with propagat- 
ing the exploded and discredited theories and 
myths of a bygone age than they were with 
keeping their pupils abreast of the latest inves- 
tigations, researches and deductions of geolo- 
gists, philosophers, astronomers and other gen- 
iuses in scientific and intellectual fields of in- 
quiry; whereas those now charged with the 
same responsibility venerate nothing because 
it is hoary with antiquity, but endeavor rather 


220 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


to encourage a spirit of truth-seeking, regard- 
less of whither it leads and what pet theory may 
be corroborated and sustained, or, on the other 
hand, overthrown. 

Among other things the professor said : 
‘‘While all scientists do not agree upon every 
conceivable topic coming within the range of 
their investigations, such differences of opinion 
are mostly and more particularly confined to 
the purely speculative regions of intellectual 
activity and are, in that respect of course, un- 
scientific — at least they are without authority. 

“Not the least interesting of these specula- 
tive doctrines is that of the Nebular Hypothe- 
sis, so called. Many eminent scientists have 
endorsed the theory that matter existed at first 
in the gaseous state; that through the com- 
bined action of inherent force and energy (the 
one attracting and binding in accordance with 
the laws of gravitation, cohesion and affinity, 
the other tending to separate and drive asunder 
the rotating mass) the gaseous state was super- 
seded by liquefaction ; which, in turn, was suc- 
ceeded by the solid state of the planets as we 
know them. Exhaustive, ingenious and learned 
are the arguments adduced to substantiate this 
theory; but just as we, perhaps, have decided 
to accept the reasoning, to pin our faith to the 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


221 


apparently unassailable logic, lo! appears an- 
other set of dialecticians whose clever ratioci- 
nations are so many destructive broadsides di- 
rected against the very hypothesis we had con- 
sidered well nigh impregnable. We are con- 
fused by so much conflicting erudition. Per- 
haps we waver and finally end by doubting. 
But whether we accept the one and reject the 
other theory, or whether we remain in doubt 
as to either or reject both, it all amounts to the 
same thing in the end. Nothing has been dem- 
onstrated absolutely, except the fact that un- 
usually clever antagonists have measured in- 
tellects in an endeavor to prove that which is 
not, and may never be, capable of demonstra- 
tion. They are, to a certain extent, at least, 
speculators beyond the boundaries of present 
knowledge and methods of research. 

“However, these desiderata are not vital to 
the race. If we cannot exactly know how the earth 
was formed from matter, ponderable or impon- 
derable, when it was so formed, and its particu- 
lar original constitituent properties, we can at 
any rate analyze the planet as we find it, trace 
its life-history, as written in and upon its rocky 
crust, and elaborate a practically accurate 
theory in respect to the evolution of animal and 
vegetable life. This has already been accom-' 


222 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


plished, its record is unimpeachable and scien- 
tists are in accord. 

“It is recognized that the globe upon which 
we live is a mere accident of that cosmic force 
and energy which never tire and never sleep 
and whose continual kinetic play and interplay 
upon the molecular, atomic and nebulous mass- 
es composing the universe are responsible for 
the birth, continuation and final death of plan- 
etary systems. All is change — ceaseless and 
endless. That we do not better comprehend is 
due to the circumstance that man’s life is but a 
second of time, his recorded history but a day, 
out of the vast cycles of the past. What our 
planet is today it was not yesterday; and to- 
morrow it will be different still. Even the cen- 
tral sun himself, light and life of our little 
world, will in the lapse of ages dissipate his 
enormous heat into the boundless fields of 
space and shine no more for the earth-race if, 
indeed, any of earth be left to note his passing. 

“The age of the world is variously estimated 
all the way from fifty millions to three hundred 
millions of years. Qu’importe? Why should 
we trouble ourselves? What we know is that 
it was once a fiery body like the sun, shining 
by its own light as does that luminary now, and 
that in those days life did not exist; that the 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


223 


azoic period, in the course of ages during which 
the crust of the earth cooled and hardened 
through dissipation of its intense heat into the 
surrounding medium and aided by torrential 
rains, which deluged the earth and formed the 
seas, gave place to the eozoic, or earliest forms 
of plant and vegetable life; that plant-life, in 
the course of other ages, was succeeded by pro- 
tozoic life and that from this humble begin- 
ning, in ever-ascending scale and ever-increas- 
ing complexity, life has evolved, has perpet- 
uated its kind in the ceasless struggle for ex- 
istence until at length was perfected the high- 
est type of all — that of the genus homo. 

“And as the birth of our planet is shrouded 
in impenetrable mystery, both as to time and 
manner, the precise epoch in which man 
evolved from the lower brute orders into a 
thinking, reasoning being with some crude 
method of communicating with his fellows is 
no less baffling to science. But that, likewise, 
is not of preponderating importance. That he 
so evolved in some far-back time we know. 
That he slowly ripened in wisdom and in knowl- 
edge from age to age, always progressing, 
learning from experience and holding what he 
had thus gained, struggling continually with 
the elements, with the brutes of lower species 


224 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


and with his own warring species, to maintain 
his precarious footing upon the inhospitable 
crust of the planet — is also sufficiently under- 
stood. 

“Yet if his development was slow during the 
early centuries of the evolutionary period his 
advance in modern times has been correspond- 
ingly rapid and spectacular. • The eighteenth and 
nineteenth centuries A. D., as we now reckon 
time for want of a more satisfactory chron- 
ology, 'were especially prolific of inventions, in- 
novations, discoveries in the domain of science, 
the more general dififusion of knowledge among 
the masses, the growing liberality of govern- 
ments and the thousand-and-one devices for 
utility and comfort which, indispensable as they 
are to us, were undreamed of by our early an- 
cestors. The latter half of the nineteenth cen- 
tury was particularly productive of far-reach- 
ing results in mechanical, industrial and intel- 
lectual fields of progress. This was pre-emi- 
nently the age of the public schools, the perfected 
printing press, the type-setling machine, the 
telegraph, the telephone and the construction 
of rapid transportation systems, all of untold 
value in the dissemination of ideas, the oblitera- 
tion of caste and the spreading of democracy 
among the hitherto illiterate, apathetic and ex- 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


225 


ploited proletariat. This, too, was the age of 
Darwin, Marx, and many other pioneers whose 
philosophic genus enriched and revolutionized 
the world. 

“This fin-de-siecle period, so enormously rich 
in genius, philosophy and invention, had its 
dark side, tod. Never was morality at so low 
an ebb; never was honor so cheap, justice so 
purchasable, courts so venal ; never were legis- 
latures so corrupt nor politicians so brazen, so 
clamorous and so infatuated with and tenacious 
of office ; never were contrasts so glaring — the 
rich so bulging with wealth, the poor so pover- 
ty-stricken and wretched; never was the al- 
mighty dollar so worshipped, greed so greedy, 
the struggle for existence so intense, graft so 
open, rampant and wide-spread, and never was 
human life held so cheap, notwithstanding the 
wilderness of hypocritical protestation to the 
contrary. It was the era when diplomacy 
reached its high-water mark, so to speak. Un- 
der the specious and mellifluous title of ‘benev- 
olent assimilation’ the weaker nations were re- 
lentlessly plundered and exploited by the 
stronger. Furthermore, in order to take some 
of the bitter sting out of death on the battle- 
field, screamingly funny ‘peace’ congresses met 
every now and then to devise more ‘humane’ 


226 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


methods of human slaughter. These emascu- 
lated dilettanti considered perfectly shocking 
the use of dum-dum bullets ; but the fortu- 
nate proletarian conscript who met his death 
through the beneficent impact of a nice, clean 
Mauser bullet was by these unimpeachable au- 
thorities on militarism in general and benevo- 
lent assimilation in particular supposed to die 
with a beatific smile upon his lips. It was a 
time of phrase-mongering, tergiversation, eu- 
phonious terminology, a truckling to wealth 
and power unparalleled. In short, the age was 
a perfectly anomalous combination of altruism 
and militarism, of beneficence and bedlam, of 
professional butchers bawling for peace and in- 
stigating war, of Christendom mouthing the 
Golden Rule and building bigger battleships — 
a hodge-podge of contradictions without rhyme 
or reason. 

‘^Of the far-off time that cradled the infant 
race no record has come down to tell the ab- 
sorbing story of man’s upward march. Of the 
world he was destined to measure, to girdle and 
to conquer he had no conception. He lived in 
tree-tops and in caves and gibbered his hates 
and loves and fears in uncouth gutterals and 
falsetto cries scarcely more intelligible than 
those of apes today. The lightnings that 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


227 


flashed across the stormclouds, the reverberat- 
ing peals of thunder, the seismic shocks that 
cleft and shook the solid crust, were so many 
demons of the earth and air, to be appeased if 
possible. Thus quite naturally arose a demand 
for the medicine-men, the sooth-sayers, fakirs 
and priests, who cunningly pretended to me- 
diate between unseen, but wrathful and terri- 
fying, spirits and the objects of their wrath. 
Hence, too, the more modern systems of mythol- 
ogy, theology, theosophy, spiritualism and the nu- 
merous cults, philosophies and psycho-isms from 
Pythagoras, and even long before the time of 
that worthy reincarnationist and transmigra- 
tionist, down to Mothereddyism, Dowieism and 
the disciples of the New Thought (whatever 
that is or was or may be) whose elaborate and 
cocksure directions for getting ‘into tune with 
the Infinite’ were the wooziest ever. 

“It has taken a long time to divorce the race 
from its belief in the supernatural, and even 
now there are sporadic outbursts of supersti- 
tion, atavistic manifestations and reversions to 
long-exploded barbarisms, including some 
brand-new formulas for enslaving the mind. 
The genus has indeed been wedded to its gods ; 
but final separation is in sight — without ali- 
mony. 


22S 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


''As old as the race, and corresponding at any 
given period to the intellectual status of the 
worshippers, have been the gods of the differ- 
ent peoples, tribes and nations. The ancient 
Egyptians worshipped fabulous animals, half 
human and half brute, and mummified their 
dead; the Chinese invested the grave with 
elaborate ceremonials and sacrificed the living 
to the 'spirits’ of their departed ones; the Bud- 
dhists worshipped images and relics of their 
translated gods and slaughtered the living to 
propitiate the divine wrath or that of their dep- 
uties of wood and stone; the Mohammedans 
were even more fanatical in their religious 
rites, and the ancient Greeks and Romans were 
scarcely less heathenish, being polytheists, ico- 
nolaters, and given to barbarous sacrificial cus- 
toms. 

"On the heels of these and numerous other 
animistic cults, if anything so freakish may be 
dignified by the name, came the Christian reli- 
gion. So far was it from offering anything new 
in the line of superstition that it was a plain, 
ordinary daylight steal out of whole cloth. Its 
cosmogony was filched bodily from far more 
ancient writings. Its Adam and Eve were the 
Adami and Heva of still more primitive Orient- 
al brainstormers. Even in its long-distance 


WHEN . THINGS WERE DOING 


229 


drop from polytheism to the fabulous Trinity, 
which consisted of a father, a son and a most 
preposterous Holy Ghost to sin against whom 
or which was accounted the quintessence of all 
abominations (if anybody ever did thus of- 
fend he probably slept just as soundly since 
nobody by searching was ever able to discover 
what it was) Christianity was guilty of plagia- 
ristic kleptomania or kleptomaniacal plagia- 
rism — if either or both phrases fracture all the 
rules of tautology it’s the best I can do — for 
its precious Three-in-one was nothing more or 
less than the Trimurti of Hindu sponsorship — 
that three-headed abnormality of the Vedas. 
The miraculous Christ himself was undoubted- 
ly a steal from some older religion — his person- 
ality is in many respects not so dissimilar to 
those Buddhistic deities who at irregular inter- 
vals are supposed to reappear on earth and, 
having accomplished their highly beneficent 
mission, to take a walk into Nirvana until a 
mundane crisis once again demands a person- 
ally conducted tour of inspection. 

“Even its far-famed Golden Rule was a piti- 
ful fiasco in the line of originality, for Confu- 
cius, centuries earlier, had uttered not merely 
the sentiment, but almost the exact words. 
However, in view of the fact that it was all pur- 


230 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


loined one more little inadvertent sequestra- 
tion of a Chinaman’s Golden Rule might be over- 
looked if that were all that was the matter 
with it. Far more serious than the manner of 
its incorporation was the crass stupidity and 
puerility of its 'divine’ propagandist whose in- 
troduction of its precepts into a competitive 
society was tantamount to his expecting that 
water could overcome the law of gravity and 
run uphill. Therein lay the essential weakness 
of the scheme — a weakness perfectly compre- 
hensible and excusable from the standpoint that 
he was a fallible and erring mortal like our- 
selves who assimilate our lessons slowly in the 
rugged school of experience; but wholly inde- 
fensible from the standpoint of superior and 
godlike wisdom. For the Golden Rule, how- 
ever admirable 'its sentiment may be conceded, 
could never for a moment be squared with the 
unremitting struggle for existence under com- 
petition, a struggle in which only the strong- 
est, fittest and craftiest had a chance of sur- 
vival. That its putatively divine sponsor left 
untouched and unrebuked the only system of 
government that forever debarred the realiza- 
tion of its beneficent philosophy was to throw 
it into the category of those costly, often ghast- 
ly, divine jokes of which in the past humanity 
has had such a surfeit. 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


231 


^'But, after all has been said, it is perfectly 
apparent that humanity has no need of divine 
and omnipotent rulers who fail to rule, of un- 
known and incomprehensible spiritual over- 
seers who do not oversee, of fanciful theologies 
that could never, by any stretch of the imagina- 
tion, form a logical connecting link between 
human conduct and life in a future state, even 
if the wholly untenable assumption of a fu- 
ture existence be conceded : since conduct is 
of relative significance only;' what is consid- 
ered proper in one historical epoch being in a 
different period regarded as highly improper, 
not to mention the wide variance of contem- 
poraneous authorities and standards. 

“It was many years ago that Prof. Tyndall 
announced that he recognized in Matter the 
possibility and potency of all that had been, 
all that was, and the promise of all that was to 
be. Although at the time his argument was 
fiercely assailed by press and pulpit, by scien- 
tists and laymen alike, the flitting years have 
added their weight of confirmatory testimony 
until, leaving scientists out of the question, he 
would be a rash layman who would dispute 
the soundness of Prof. Tyndall’s conclusions. 

“In the humble origin of the species, in the 
long and upward climb from protoplasm to civ- 


232 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


ilized man, in the strenuous, endless struggle 
for survival involving the sacrifice of untold 
billions of lives, in the rough, necessitous by- 
ways of experience where men have groped for 
knowledge, in the costly mistakes, in the ca- 
price, blindness and utter cruelty of the plan — 
the scientific instinct would search in vain for 
evidence of a beneficent and guiding provi- 
dence But negative proof is some- 

times scarcely better than no proof. Let us 
get after the kernel within the husk. At the 
outermost bounds of scientific investigation, 
where the savant ‘translates his ignorance into 
Greek and calls it agnosticism,’ where the faith 
of the mystic and dreamer hovers above a 
shoreless and soundless sea, trembling between 
hope and fear and doubt, where the clodhopper 
says to the metaphysician ‘You’re it,’ and all 
bring up in a cul de sac: incontestable proof 
confronts all reasoning beings old enough to be 
out of the nursery. 

“In order to conceive of an over-ruling provi- 
dence, creator of the universe and arbiter of 
man’s destiny, it becomes absolutely necessary 
to predicate a supreme intelligence. In other 
words, the creator must, among other qualities, 
possess those of omniscience and omnipotence. 
As a matter of fact every chief deity of christen- 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING ^3 

don and heathendom is so postulated. Anything 
less would lead to a reductio ad absurbum — 
if the deity were conceivable as anything less 
than omniscient and omnipotent} perhaps he 
might not be more than half so wise and power- 
ful, etc., etc. But in avoiding the reductio-ad- 
absurdum Scylla the hapless theological navigator 
forthwith comes to grief upon an equally treach- 
erous Charybdis. There is no possible escape; 
for the moment that omniscience is predicated 
of a creator the inevitable corollary is that he 
knew not only all of the good and beneficent con- 
sequences of his creative act, hut also all the 
crimes, from the most trivial to the most hideous, 
from the beginning of creation to the uttermost 
limits of time, that would occur as the result 
of his creation. It cannot be otherwise. The 
creator knows everything. These crimes were 
and are a part of 'everything’ — no inconsider- 
able part, at that. 

"But, furthermore, if the deity knew in ad- 
vance all the crimes that would follow his crea- 
tion (as under the hypothesis he did and does) 
those crimes necessarily had to be enacted since 
nobody acquainted with the rudiments of logic 
would jeopardize his reputation by claiming that 
any criminal could avoid doing what omniscience 
and omnipotence from the beginning knew he 


234 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


(or she) would do. Conversely, no crime of 
whatever nature could ever by any possibility 
have taken place had the deity known from the 
beginning that the world was to be sinless and 
crimeless ; yet, being all powerful, that was the 
creator’s prerogative, had he so willed it. 

“To contend, on the other hand, as legions of 
mental cripples have time out of mind contended, 
that God certainly knew all the crimes that 
would blacken his creation, yet offered his crea- 
tures their unrestricted choice between good and 
evil, is simply to invite the offices of some com- 
petent alienist. If the creator knew from the 
beginning that John Jones, for instance, would 
be a murderer, and if, in spite of his creator’s 
knowledge to that effect, the said Jones should 
refrain from murder, deity would find itself in 
no end of a hole; it would enjoy the paradoxical 
distinction of knowing something that it didn’t 
know. Besides which, Jones, having done some- 
thing that his creator knew he would not do and 
having thus proved himself more powerful than 
deity, could immediately oust the deity and run 
the universe himself. Such would be the logical 
penalty for a creator who should, Frankenstein- 
like, raise up a creature more powerful than 
he (the creator). And yet millions of doddering 
imbeciles, both in and out of the pulpit, have 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


235 


conceived no inconsistency in asserting that an 
omniscient God who necessarily always knew 
what his creatures’ choice would be (whether 
the good or the evil way) nevertheless gave them 
all a chance to do as they pleased! For the 
expounders and proponents of any such pitiable 
specimen of brain work as that there is but 
one fitting injunction: ‘Back to the woods!’ 

“The atheist is far kinder. Rather than reduce 
an omnipotent and omniscient being to a state 
of helplessness, to an absurdity or to a monster, 
he prefers to say : There is no God.’ 

“Thus passes one more iridescent and cher- 
ished dream of the earth-race and along with 
it goes a-glimmering the fanciful and beautiful, 
but probably baseless, hope of immortality. Cer- 
tain it is that if the grave does not bring ever- 
lasting sleep man can never know aught to the 
the contrary. It is no less certain that if man 
has an immortal soul every blade of grass, every 
flower, every insect, every crawling, creeping and 
flying thing, from the minutest to the most un- 
wieldy creature, also has an immortal soul ; for 
all are admittedly made of the same primorial 
stuff. If anybody can seriously entertain the idea 
that sharks and devil-fish, mosquitoes, fleas, centi- 
pedes, bats and tigers have immortal souls ; if 
he can without blinking accept the theory that a 


23G 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


cubic inch of rotten-stone contains the mortal 
remains of forty-one thousand million immortal 
souls— for. we are assured that the skeleton of 
so many tiny diatoms are required to make up 
a cubic inch of that substance — it is reasonably 
certain that neither science nor logic will attempt 
to curb his truly remarkable imagination. 

“But perchance the contention may be raised that 
the cosmos is governed by law ; that law is neither 
spontaneous nor self-enforcing. To which science 
makes answer that there is no patent upon in- 
vestigation in this field and that anybody is privi- 
leged to discover the law and the source of the 
law — if he can. Science is not dogmatic and 
logic simply refuses to swear by what is pal- 
pably and notoriously illogical. That is all. Be- 
cause a nescient deity has been reduced to an 
absurdity and an omniscient one to a monster 
it does not necessarily follow that the last word 
has been said. The idea that a false philosophy 
should not be destroyed until a true one has 
been set up in its place is childish. It will not, 
as the phrase goes, hold water. Reason would 
seem to suggest that the sooner the false is dis- 
carded the sooner will the true have a chance to 
be set up. 

“However, apropos of cosmic laws, one no 
sooner discovers a law and the immediate cause 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


237 


of the law than he is led to suspect that the 
cause behind the law is itself only the effect of 
a prior cause, and so on ad infinitum. Which 
is probably equivalent to saying that the race will 
merrily pursue a First Cause as long as there 
shall be in the universe one unsolved riddle. It 
is a harmless pastime whether or not it be re- 
garded as a profitless one. 

"‘Finally, in the material universe all is change. 
Immutability does not inhere; and in the history 
of the lesser planets and satellites whose energy 
was long ago exhausted, whose once luminous 
and molten masses are now cold and lifeless, we 
may forecast the fate of the larger planets, the 
earth, even the giant sun himself. Permit me 
to quote a short paragraph from Edward Clodd’s 
charmingly written "Story of Creation’: 

"" "The ultimate transference of all energy to 
the ethereal medium involves the end of the ex- 
isting state of things. But the ceaseless redis- 
tribution of matter, force-clasped and energy- 
riven, involves the beginning of another state 
of things. So the changes are rung on evolu- 
tion and dissolution, on the birth and death of 
stellar systems — gas to solid, solid to gas, yet 
never quite the same — mighty rhythmic beats of 
which the earth’s cycles, and the cradles and 
graves of her children, are minor rhythms.’ 


238 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


“We need to read such passages occasionally 
in order to acquire a broader and better-balanced 
view of our puny, unimportant role and swiftly 
passing hour upon the stage of Time. It is cal- 
culated to take some of the overweening conceit 
out of us to be reminded now and again, not 
merely that we ourselves do not cut a particu- 
larly wide swath in the scheme (or lack of 
scheme) of things, but that our planet itself and 
the stellar system of which it is a part are only 
passing incidents in the shifting scenes of the 
cosmic drama, ‘minor rhythms’ in the lusty song 
of the giant. Force, as one after another he 
binds and drags his resisting captives home. 
. . . . There is a ring of sadness in these minor 
chords and rhythms; but the music is too faint 
and far away to long repress the natural optimism 
and gaiety of the race. As the painted butterfly 
flits and dances in the sun, although the frosts 
and snows of winter are at hand, let us enjoy 
to the full the present and be unafraid of the 
future. Nothing can rob us of the pleasure we 
have had. Thanking you for your attention, 
permit me to commend the philosophy of the 
butterfly.” 


CHAPTER XIL 


Five years have passed into history since the 
inauguration of the Co-operative Commonwealth 
of America. It is no longer so designated, how- 
ever, as there are on the two American continents 
several co-operative commonwealths. Altruria 
is now the way it looks upon the map, and of 
course its people are called Altrurians. Perhaps 
it is as well. The name seems to fit with peculiar 
appropriateness those who were the first to intro- 
duce practical co-operation to a planet of flouting 
and doubting Thomases, very few of whom long 
for a return to the old economic system. 

Wondrously fair to look upon and wondrously 
kind to her favored dwellers is Altruria. Her 
vast and beautiful domain, diversified by every 
topographical charm and every desirable climatic 
condition, is divided into eight principal depart- 
ments of varying size: Kansas, Colorado, Wyo- 
ming, California, Texas, Tennessee, Narragansett 
and Allegheny. 

Kansas is the largest of the departments, being 
made up of the former states of Michigan, Indi- 
ana, Illinois, Wisconsin, ^Minnesota, Iowa, Mis- 


240 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


souri, Kansas, Nebraska, and the two Dakotas. 
This department is also the seat of government. 
The national capital is Scarlet Buttes, on the Mis- 
souri River, and its capitol edifice with the sur- 
rounding groups of administration buildings can- 
not in the world be surpassed, whether for boldness 
of conception, massiveness, originality and beauty 
of architecture, convenience and elegance of ap- 
pointments or general sumptuousness of detail. 
Situated on a commanding bluff six hundred feet 
above the river. Scarlet Buttes is one of the show 
places of the continent. The government build- 
ings, as well as all other public and private 
buildings of the capital, are constructed of a 
beautiful white limestone, sawed into blocks and 
polished, with trimmings of red sandstone, 
pressed and glazed brick in a variety of colors, 
sheet copper overlaid on steel and other fancy 
trimming materials in natural stone and different 
metals. A detailed description would read so 
much like that previously devoted to Kankakee 
that it may be omitted. In general, while noth- 
ing is lacking which renders the latter so at- 
tractive as a twentieth century habitation for 
mankind, everything in Scarlet Buttes is on 
a far more pretentious scale in respect to size and 
elaboration, in keeping with the traditions and 
requirements of ancient usage. The capital takes 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


241 


its name from a pair of weather-scarred buttes, 
four or five miles upstream, whose rugged sides 
show outcroppings here and there of a peculiar 
blood-red rock. This was evidently too sug- 
gestive for the legend-makers to resist; so the 
story runs that in the pioneer days a party of 
pale-faces, en route for the gold fields, was there 
by vindictive red-skins rounded up and massacred, 
their blood permanently coloring the rocks. 

In this extensive and productive department, 
reinforced by a system of reservoirs which store 
for future use the oceans of water that formerly 
went to waste in spring and summer freshets, 
can be raised the staple cereal crops for the whole 
world; but as many other countries are produc- 
ing the same staples it is unnecessary for Kansas 
to raise and store more than enough, beyond 
the national requirements, to provide against a 
possible shortage elsewhere. 

It would require - a volume to describe the 
town of Graino, on the ‘^Catapult’’ railroad — its 
miles of tracks, its elevators, warehouses, milling 
machinery, huge power fans and packing and 
shipping rooms, its mammoth hoists, chutes and 
tanks, and the perfect system from the time the 
different grains are freed from every particle 
of chaff and dust until they are packed ready 
for shipment in copper-sheathed, vermin-proof 


242 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


storage vaults, where the temperature is artificially 
regulated to the proper degree. It is an exhibi- 
tion in itself and one could linger there a month 
and then go away without having seen it all. 

Truck farming, hay ranching, small fruits 
and berry culture, orcharding and hog-raising are 
all extensively followed in the sections found 
best adapted to the different industries. 

Owing to the large number of new and mod- 
ern towns demanded for the convenience and 
comfort of the workers, the immense mileage of 
highways and electric traction lines, the water 
systems, canals and reservoirs completed or pro- 
jected, the citizens of Kansas have so far been, 
and for some years to come will be, busy as 
bees. Even so, none has labored longer than 
a six-hour shift in a day (inclusive of the time 
consumed getting to and from work) unless he 
chose. True, many have worked longer hours; 
but it was purely voluntary, the general rule 
throughout Altruria being that a half-day shift 
shall be considered a day’s work. Furthermore, 
when the bulk of permanent public improvements 
shall have been completed, it is thought unlikely 
that any will need to work more than two or 
three hours a day. 

Wyoming is the national cattle range. It 
comprises the old states, Montana, Idaho and 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


243 


Wyoming. Its grazing lands, hay bottoms and 
mountain streams are nowhere excelled. From 
mountain range to kitchen range the strictest 
and most scientific supervision is maintained un- 
der conditions hygienically and sanitarily as per- 
fect as human skill can provide. If we must 
include in our daily fare the flesh of animals 
(and there are and perhaps always will be honest 
differences of opinion as to its propriety) we 
assuredly can never eat better, tenderer, juicier 
or more wholesome beef than is slaughtered in 
Wyoming. 

Connected with the abattoirs is a tannery which 
annually prepares millions of hides for the thou- 
sahd-and-one manufactured articles which civ- 
ilized man has come to look upon as indispensa- 
ble. And while the by-products are not worked 
up quite so closely, perhaps, as in the good old 
“Jungle” days where nothing got away but the 
porker’s dying squeal and the bovine’s expiring 
breath, what with the fertilizer works, glue fac- 
tory and similar industries, very little of value 
goes to waste. 

In Wyoming, also, are the national breweries 
and distilleries, the water from a certain moun- 
tain cascade having its source up among the" 
eternal snow and ice, having been pronounced 
superior for the purpose to any on the continent. 


244 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


It of course goes without saying that the vari-. 
ous liquors distilled are the real smooth, simon- 
pure article, the seek-no-farther and Eureka of 
all who occasionally or more frequently delight 
to worship at the shrine of Bacchus. It is true 
that the greater part of the product to date is 
in the storage cellars acquiring the age held to 
be so desirable in this class of goods, but a lim- 
ited quantity of four-year-old rye which connois- 
seurs reverentially hold to the light before delight- 
edly quaffing is now being distributed as an ear- 
nest of what the fully matured product will be. 
And while all the malt beverages are simply un- 
approachable for purity, flavor and general ex- 
cellence, there is a beer they call Brownie — dark, 
almost black, delicious, creamy, satisfying, al- 
mond flavored (they used large quantities of 
almonds in the mash and the bitter is a delight- 
ful tang between that of the almond and the 
hop) and pre-eminently superior. It is no less 
pre-eminently care-dispelling and would dissipate 
even the troubles of a family man afflicted with 
too much mother-in-law. Yet withal it is ex- 
hilarating rather than intoxicating, no reasonable 
amount of it apparently being potent to make 
the average Altrurian monopolize more than his 
share of the sidewalk or create in his bosom 
the hallucination that he is an integral part of 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


245 


a Wild West show. Of equal excellence and 
fame are the several brands of ale. Indeed all 
the distillery goods are straight, clean, pure, 
wholesome. The hops come from the renowned 
Willamette valley, the grains from the sunny 
plains of Kansas, and experts are in charge. 
Moreover the goods are produced to be drunk, 
not to be sold, which might be the same thing 
if it did not happen to be so entirely different. 

California includes, besides the one-time 
state of the same name, Oregon, Washington and 
the western half of Nevada. This department, 
which nature has so prodigally showered with 
her richest charms of mountain, mesa, forest, val- 
ley, plain and shore, is easily the gem of Altruria. 
Nowhere else is the climate so winning, the 
flowers so gorgeous, the procession of the seasons 
so alluring, the sunshine so persistent or the 
response to man’s co-operation so generous and 
marvelous. 

And as no other department is so attractive 
from an all-round viewpoint none has undergone 
so magical a transformation in the five years 
that have flitted by on rushing wings. Some of 
the old towns and cities have been abandoned 
and destroyed, in keeping with the new and com- 
prehensive scheme of development, others have 
been razed and rebuilt on the same magnificent 


246 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


scale that characterizes all of Altruria’s new 
cities, both large and small. 

Spokane, Seattle, Tacoma have all fallen vic- 
tims to the torch and axe of progress ; their sites 
have been regraded and they have been rebuilt 
as twentieth century cities should be. Those 
who once called them beautiful now blush at 
their former stupidity. It is true they used to 
have one or two ‘"show” streets where the cap- 
tains of industry freely spent their money in 
an effort to unite attractiveness and exclusive- 
ness in the neighborhoods favored with their 
approval; but they couldn’t keep up the “lick.” 
The crop of captains of industry wouldn’t go 
around. Exclusiveness soon petered out in medi- 
ocrity and sham gentility which in turn was 
flanked by the poverty-stricken and disease-breed- 
ing pestholes where herded the miserable hordes 
developed by, and inseparable from, the system. 

Portland has been regenerated. On the old 
site has sprung up, as if by the magician’s wand, 
a dream city which many declare the loveliest 
in all Altruria, if not on earth. To stand in 
the semi-tropic park on Portland Heights of 
an afternoon in June with the sunshine, which 
in those latitudes assumes an almost supernatural 
brilliancy, streaming down out of a glorious 
sapphire sky whose soft, deep blue is unique — 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


247 


streaming over a dream city of white and gold 
that stretches fair and far along the picturesque 
valley— lighting up the silver thread of the Wil- 
lamette and the Columbia’s yellow flood as it 
rolls impetuously toward the sea — bathing in ah 
unearthly glory the snow-capped summits of 
the Cascades — St. Helens, Hood and all the rest : 
is perchance to come as near shaking off the “old 
Adam” in one’s tout ensemble and parting 
company for the nonce with, all the dross of earth 
as one may reasonably hope to come in this 
life. 

The whole Willamette valley and the country 
to the south have shared in the general meta- 
morphosis. Their towns are picturesque and 
modern throughout; their hop plantations, or- 
chards, vineyards, nurseries and dairy ranches 
are the finest on earth; their parks, schools and 
amusement centres are unsurpassed; and where- 
as they formerly had the worst roads in the 
world, bar none, they now have many thousand 
miles of superior highways and boulevards — in 
a word, they live instead of merely existing to 
pay taxes. 

A new San Francisco has arisen out of the 
ruins of the old ; and while it is far more beau- 
tiful than ever, it is not as large, perhaps, as 
several other towns in the magnificent Sacra- 


248 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


mento and San Joaquin valleys. It is still the ship- 
ping centre of the Pacific coast, but shipping is not 
so important an industry as it used to be, since 
Altruria does not produce for export except in 
exchange for such commodities as, by reason of 
climatic or other conditions, she cannot herself 
produce. It is a manufacturing centre and tour- 
ist resort. Her artificers in gold and silver, brass, 
copper, iron and other metals are world-re- 
nowned. Furniture-making and artistic wood- 
working are also extensively followed, the im- 
mense forests of California being on account 
of their inaccessibility, less exploited than those 
of any other department of the commonwealth. 
But that is not saying much, as the old-time 
greed of capitalism for the almighty dollar 
would have rigged up a sawmill in the parks 
of the New Jerusalem, invaded the Garden of 
Eden and slashed up into two-by-fours for the 
sake of profit, the Tree of Knowledge itself. 

In Southern California the gods have been 
exceedingly kind to mortal manikins^ but these 
same manikins have been even kinder to them- 
selves. They have simply networked the whole 
region with splendid boulevards, zip-car tracks 
(they call the new fangled trolley a zip-car) and 
railroads of enormous power and sj>eed. It is a 
country of magnificent distances, charming vistas 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


249 


and idealistic, harmonious group life— a country 
where arboriculture, floriculture, viticulture and 
horticulture have reached the apex of excellence, 
where flourish to a perfection scarcely attainable 
elsewhere the orange, lemon, olive, fig, grape 
and numerous other fruits of tree and field and 
vine. It is, moreover, the autoists’ heaven on 
earth. 

Out of the dozen or more large cities in this 
corner of Altruria San Diego may be mentioned 
as the most notable in many respects. To say 
that she has been entirely rebuilt of stone, brick, 
marble, steel, concrete, glass, and other fireproof 
materials, with magnificently broad streets bor- 
dered with thousands of miles of lovely flowers, 
flowering shrubs and palm trees, is to give but 
the faintest idea of her wonderful beauty and 
phenomenal growth. She is now the largest city 
of the commonwealth and of the world. Her 
more than a million homes extend entirely around 
the eastern side of the bay and from the water- 
front back onto the mesa more than six miles. 
“Los Terrados” is the name the Mexicans have 
given the city, because from the sea level back 
towards the foothills the metropolis is built on 
three evenly graded, gently sloping terraces, the 
cost of grading which under the competitive 
system would have amounted to more than the 


250 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


value of all the yellow gold ever mined in the 
state. Another name for the city is “The Arc- 
Angel,” a tribute to the quarter of a million huge 
arc lights which shed their dazzling brilliance 
abroad from glass globes all the colors of the 
rainbow. As seen at night from the deck of 
an incoming steamer — the multi-colored sea of 
coruscation rising tier on tier from the different 
teraces — the effect is spectacular and enchanting 
beyond description. But while all San Diegans 
are properly “stuck up” over their aerial sym- 
phony in colors, their particular pride and boast 
is a new sea-wall that completely encircles the 
bay, save for the narrow reef that Nature threw 
up and upon which man could scarcely improve. 
They have also dredged every foot of the harbor 
to a mean depth of twenty feet at low water 
and now any pleasure craft in the world may 
land her passengers anywhere along the wall. 
The crowning glory of all is an esplanade, or 
quay, fifteen hundred feet wide, level as a billiard 
table, almost, and smooth as glass. This extends 
the entire length of the city and of the wall. 
Facing this quay are the mammoth caravansaries 
for the accommodation of the enormous numbers 
of tourists who flock here when the greater por- 
tion of Altruria is wrapped in snow and ice; 
the theaters, cafes, dancing pavilions, and amuse- 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING ' 251 


ment resorts, the band stands, clubs, carousels 
and concert halls. Here, along this grand quay, 
summer or winter, from eight o’clock in the 
morning till midnight, may be seen hundreds of 
thousands of San Diegans ; but from seven to ten 
in the evening they are to be counted by millions. 
It is the rendezvous of official and social life and 
Madame Grundy disports herself and her multi- 
tudinous charms in perennial glory. From every 
part of the city they gather, on foot, on bicycles 
and in auto-carriages varying in size from the 
single seated run-about to the huge barge carry- 
ing two hundred or more people. But no 
horses — nit und nein, not! Nor any cats and 
dogs, thank you. San Diegans won’t stand for 
’em, the nawsty things! If anybody wants to 
live with ’em let him go back to the woods and 
mountains where he can have a million if he 
wishes. And talk about your skating rinks for 
young Altruria ! When in the world before did 
youngsters ever have a skating rink twenty-five 
miles long and fifteen hundred feet wide? That 
they appreciate it is amply evidenced by the way 
they patronize it. 

But, goodness! enough space has been given 
to San Diego. Los Angeles will be jealous and 
the angels up there will tear their flowing locks. 
In brief, the City of Angels is not a whit behind 


252 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


her southern neighbor in material improvement 
or anything else that’s up to date ; and while 
she hasn't the “finest harbor in the world” she 
has no dearth of compensating charms and ad- 
vantages. It is all a matter of individual choice 
and' millions of Altrurians prefer her quaint and 
picturesque scheme of architecture — a combina- 
tion of Renaissance and Old Mission — to any- 
thing the sun shines upon. Her handsome boule- 
vards are riotous with gorgeous flowers, her 
stately palms life their graceful fronds aloft with 
a luxuriance and vigor scarcely rivaled in the 
world, she is still the Pacific’s Queen of the Car- 
nival and existence within her borders is simply 
idyllic But a ponderous vol- 

ume could not do justice to the Department of 
California. Her vineyard, orchard and wine in- 
dustries, her mountain resorts and big caravan- 
saries, park systems and railroads would alone 
furnish a year’s occupation to a special corre- 
spondent. Vast and mighty is Altruria and other 
departments press for recognition. 

Colorado embraces the territory once known 
as New Mexico, Arizona, Utah and Colorado; 
also the eastern half of Nevada. In this pictur- 
esque region where the majestic peaks of the 
Rockies tower among the clouds mining and 
metallurgy are extensively pursued, as of yore. 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


253 


From time immemorial, necessary to the welfare 
and comfort of the race, the metals which Nature 
has hidden in her rocky storehouse are doubly 
necessary under the co-operative system which 
abhors cheapness and builds its monuments of 
imperishable materials. Iron, copper, zinc, lead 
and combinations and alloys of these are used 
much more extensively than ever before in manu- 
facturing, building and in the arts and crafts. 
The finer and more precious metals, so called, 
are also mined and reduced in large quantities. 
They no longer enslave mankind nor retard 
and block the acquisition of those material im- 
provements that alone constitute true national 
wealth ; but in the useful and decorative arts their 
vogue is greater than ever. 

Mining is no longer the hazardous, distasteful 
and strenuous occupation it was when only the 
strongest, under the sole inducement that could 
tempt a human being to follow it, a comparatively 
high rate of wages, took their lives in their 
hands and were lowered in rattle-trap cages to 
noisome and frightful depths, there to battle with 
noxious gases, fire-damp, reckless bosses, make- 
shift protective devices and the thousand-and-one 
dangers to- life and limb inseparable from ex- 
ploitation. On the contrary, at whatever level 
the workers are engaged the shafts, tunnels, 


254 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


branches and leads are high and roomy, thor- 
oughly ventilated, perfectly lighted by electricity, 
properly shored with steel supports and, more- 
over, machinery does everything that human in- 
genuity can provide in the way of labor-saving 
contrivances. As a result of^ which, coupled with 
short hours and the best living the earth affords, 
thousands of mechanically-inclined young men 
prefer the life to any other. 

This department is also the national dairy 
ranch ; and although dairying is followed to a 
greater or less extent in other departments, no- 
where is it so specialized and nowhere else 
do dairy products attain such uniform excel- 
lence. Its butter, cheese, cream and milk are 
daily shipped in immense quantities all over the 
commonwealth, fast freight (refrigerated cars) 
enabling these table delicacies to reach any part 
of the country within a few hours after packing. 

Poultry raising is another important industry 
of this department, many millions of hens, ducks 
and geese being cared for by communities that 
devote their whole time and attention to its vari- 
ous branches. On the Littl-e Colorado and other 
streams poultry products are packed and daily 
shipped by the trainload, thus shattering forever 
one more highly-prized asset of the funny writ- 
ers; for the perennial joke about ancient eggs 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


255 


has lost its savor and nothing is in sight to take 
its place. Consumers in general, however, are 
not losing sleep on that account. 

Texas is that portion of the commonwealth 
lying south of Kansas and west of the Mississippi 
that formerly included the states of Oklahoma, 
Arkansas, Louisiana and Texas. This is Al- 
truria’s cotton belt. It produces seven-eighths 
of all the cotton raised in the country and, be- 
sides, represents the up-to-date attempt at a prac- 
tical solution of the ''negro” question. Negroes 
not only perform all the labor of planting, tend- 
ing and harvesting this staple, but they also do 
all the manufacturing, every cotton mill in the 
commonwealth being located in Texas. Under 
the supervision of a few hundred experts of the 
Caucasian race the blacks run the whole depart- 
ment. They have built their own new cities 
which are as modern and beautiful as any in 
Altruria. Their schools, elementary, academic, 
technical ; their universities, trades and manual 
training institutes, are all under the management 
of colored teachers and trainers. They have 
built their own splendid system of highways, 
run the government stores, have their own the- 
atres, bands, sports, and recreations, their sched- 
ules of alternating labor and relaxation, just as 
do the whites; they live just as well in every 


256 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


respect and are at last happy, industrious, am- 
bitious, free from exploitation, self-respecting 
and respected of all. There is only one restric- 
tion — an unwritten law that they perfectly un- 
derstand and do not seek to override — that they 
virtually stay in their own department, unless 
for good and sufficient reason to the contrary, 
and there work out their racial destiny, whatever 
that may be and wherever it may finally lead. 
In some far-distant day, perhaps, when Evolu- 
tion, the law of natural selection, the imitative 
faculty, the aspiration which impels the genus — 
but speculation is idle, the future is wrapped 
in impenetrable mist and prophets and prophecy 
are justly passing out of vogue. For the pres- 
ent they are industrious and contented. No ma- 
terial want is left unsatisfied. That they are 
ingenious, ambitious and capable is attested by 
the quality of their manufactured products which 
range from coarsest weaves to the finest and 
most delicate fabrics possible to turn out with 
machinery. 

In the winter season, too, they drop all work 
and hold a month’s carnival in New Orleans. 
It is not called Mardi-Gras and has no religious 
significance ; but the whole department is en fete 
and thousands of whites invade the town to wit- 
nes their parades, floats and flower battles, their 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


257 


grotesque ceremonials and exaggerated antics, 
their cake-walks and Voodoo dances and their 
gorgeous costumes, in comparison with which 
Solomon’s raiment would look like a second- 
hand outfit. The dusky belles are loaded with 
blazing diamonds, gems and precious stones of 
every description, gold and silver ornaments and 
apparel glaring enough to put the moon and 
stars out of business, while the bucks are simply 
impossibly imposing as they swagger around 
town in toggery that would make a Somali 
king go off and die with envy. 

In music, of which they are passionately fond, 
these people, under the excellent instruction now 
possible for all, are making rapid progress. Rare, 
highly trained and even extraordinary voices 
are not uncommon among their favorite vaude- 
ville artists. Some of their choruses and glee 
clubs are superb and out of the several brass 
bands supported by the department one or two 
could be picked whose performances would not 
greatly suffer in comparison with those of any 
similar organization in the world. 

There is, too, an ebony-skinned son of Thespis, 
tall, handsome, barbaric, whose histrionic talent 
is of blue-ribbon calibre, possessing the fire, the 
brilliancy and pathos typical of an outcast race 
and a versatilifty and genius of interpretation 


258 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


that would do credit to any race. They call 
him L’Africain. His impersonation of Othello 
is famous on two continents and in carnival 
time even the renowned Vlanchi, Altruria’s lead- 
ing tragedienne, does not disdain, as Desdemona, 
to nightly bare her lily-white throat to his mur- 
derous grip, in the marvelous mimic-death scene 
which will melt up hearts of snow as long as 
mimetic art shall endure. 

Oh, yes, they are coming on, these children of 
the tropic suns. The wheel of Evolution is turn- 
ing. As the barkers in the old-time gambling 
joints used to shout: “Round and round the 
little wheel goes; and where she’ll stop nobody 
knows.” 

Tennessee is formed from the states that were 
Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, Florida, the two 
Carolinas and Tennessee. This department is 
famous for its tobacco which is cultivated and 
manufactured on a most extensive scale, for it 
not only supplies Altruria’s millions with their 
favorite form of nicotine, but is the common- 
wealth’s principal export commodity, going all 
over the world in exchange for the things we can- 
not or do not produce 

Horses and mules are also here extensively 
bred for, except in the cities, they are still in 
demand. As the years go by and every part of 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


259 


the country has been supplied with the best mac- 
adam roads ; when needed inventions shall 
have remedied existing defects in farm machin- 
ery, these faithful beasts will almost completely 
disappear. Yet not entirely. As a show animal 
the horse will still exist. The exhilarating pas- 
time of coaching, though subject to its ups and 
downs in favor of the speedier auto-car, will be 
revived from time to time since nothing on earth, 
aesthetically and from the viewpoint of pictur- 
esqueness, can ever take the place of the old coach 
and a spanking team of six. Practically, how- 
ever, the horse has had his day and must go. 
And it is far better thus. There is another 
side than the aesthetic, another view than the 
picturesque. It is one that will appeal most 
powerfully to the thoughtful, the kind-hearted, 
the true nature-lovers and animal-lovers the 
world over. It is the remembrance that man’s 
inhumanity to man, inexpressibly shocking 
thought it has often been, has never equaled, 
even approximately, his inhumanity to brutes, 
especially the noble quadruped whose day and 
vogue are passing. It is needless to be more 
specific. Those whose hearts have ached, whose 
righteous wrath has flamed a million times at re- 
volting spectacles of brutality on the part of 
horse-owners and drivers, will understand, while 


260 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


the naturally indifferent, the willfully or uncon- 
sciously cruel, would regard the picture as highly 
exaggerated, if not maliciously overdrawn. 

The southern districts of Tennessee are noted 
for their winter gardening, pursued in the open 
and cultivated under glass. Daily after the mid- 
dle of January hundreds of trains leave for the 
North and West loaded with early strawberries, 
lettuce, cucumbers, radishes, cress, spinach, as- 
paragus and other vegetables. In short, no busier 
hive of industry exists in the commonwealth 
and no department has advanced more rapidly 
in those material modern innovations and im- 
provements that everywhere mark the boundless 
difference between living for the pleasure of liv- 
ing and living to pay the exactions of monopoly 
levied upon the earth and all thereto pertaining. 

Allegheny includes Kentucky, \^irginia. West 
Virginia, Maryland, Delaware, New Jersey, 
Pennsylvania, Ohio and New York. It is the 
centre of the iron and steel manufacturing in- 
dustry. 

From a pocket knife to an ocean liner, from a - 
locomotive to a carpet tack, everything in the 
machinery, tools, hardware, cutlery, construc- 
tion and navigation lines is here carried on with 
a system, a vastness and perfection never before 
possible. Owing to the pressing demand for 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


2G1 


rails, rolling stock (the new cars are built of 
steel) engines, locomotives, electrical supplies, 
bridge material, construction steel, tunneling and 
road-building apparatus, machinery for agricul- 
tural and domestic use, ship-building sundries 
and countless other forms of manufactured iron 
and steel products, this has so far been Altruria’s 
'^rush’^ department. Hundreds of new blast fur- 
naces, puddling and rolling mills, foundries, etc., 
have been erected. Night and day in four five- 
hour shifts, the work of supplying the country’s 
needs has during the past five years gone stead- 
ily on. For the next five years there will be no 
appreciable slackening ; after which it is expected 
the commonwealth will be pretty well equipped 
with railroads and rolling stock, highways, 
bridges and new towns, thus giving the workers 
in this department a somewhat less strenuous 
life, as well as considerably shortening the work- 
ing time. 

In Allegheny, too, are located all of the na- 
tional glass works and not a few of the potteries. 
Here are the immense coal deposits, the natural 
gas and oil wells, and at the same time no in- 
considerable portion of the crude ores that are 
the sine qua non of the iron and steel industry. 

Ponderous and marvelous machinery lightens 
the workers’ toil and does pretty much every- 


262 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


thing but talk ; nothing is lacking that human 
wisdom, foresight and experience can suggest 
and the millions of mechanics and apprentices 
work their five-hour shifts with an energy and in- 
terest that are in themselves a wordless sermon 
on the benefits of co-operation, and then pursue 
whatever form of recreation appeals to them, 
just as in other departments. 

N arragansett takes in the six states that used 
to be known as New England. It is by Altru- 
rians jocularly and familiarly referred to as the 
“Sheep Ranch” because all of the sheep in the 
commonwealth are bred and tended in this, de- 
partment, sacred to the memory of the Pilgrims, 
King Phillip, Massasoit, Roger Williams, tea 
parties, the cod-fish (not to mention an aris- 
tocracy that used to be distinguished from other 
aristocrats by changing the appetizing substan- 
tive into an adjective) Bunker Hill, baked beans, 
wooden nutmegs, blue laws and Blue-bellies, 
witch-hunters and a great many other persons 
and things. In the same jocular vein its deni- 
zens are frequently called “Mutton-heads,” but 
this apparently disparaging allusion is more in 
reference to their occupation than on account of 
any extraordinary cranial thickness, actual or 
supposititious; for the sins of the fathers, hav- 
ing been duly expiated, have now by the statute 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


263 


of limitations become innocuous and etiolated be- 
yond all suspicion of a scarlet tinge. 

But while sheep raising may be accorded first 
rank in the industrial life of Narragansett, many 
millions being annually bred and slaughtered, 
the leather industry is of scarcely less import- 
ance. All the leather factories, harness, saddlery 
and trimmings establishments, boot and shoe 
making shops, and manufactories for trunks, 
bags, gloves and numerous other leather arti- 
cles, together with many of the tanneries, are 
here located. Altruria’s immense woolen mills 
are also all found in this department and, as if 
the foregoing were not enough to keep her 
20,000,000 population busy, many thousand fish- 
ermen pursue the finny tribe, all the way from 
Provincetown to the Grand Banks. Fishing, 
however, is no longer the dangerous pursuit it 
used to be. Deep-water fishing craft are built 
of steel, are five to seven hundred feet in length, 
provided with every possible convenience and 
carry crews of several hundred men each. These 
monster vessels are practically unaffected by 
wind or weather and ride out the heaviest storms 
as safely as if docked in home ports. They have 
unlimited refrigerating capacity and when they 
put to sea for fish they stay at sea until their 
fare of several thousand tons is stowed aboard. 


264 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


Winter or summer, rain or shine, snow or blow, 
the hardy fishermen ply their calling. Their 
quarters are roomy, comfortable, even luxurious, 
steam heated in cold weather and amply provided 
with amusement features. Their small boats 
for trawling and seining are propelled by power, 
so that if a sudden storm comes up or a heavy 
fog drifts in they can quickly reach the ship. In 
short, the life of the fisherman has been as thor- 
oughly revolutionized as has the landsman’s ex- 
istence. 


Such, in a random, imperfect, hop-skip-and- 
jump way of describing it, is life in Altruria 
after five years of co-operation. 

That the competitive system was begun and 
continued because of the fear of coming want; 
that this fear engendered greed and that greed, 
in turn, became the “ruling passion” is held to be 
too axiomatic to admit of controversy. Where- 
fore the claim that co-operation has reversed 
previously existing standards whether or not it 
has reversed or changed that rather vague and 
indefinite concatenation called human nature ; 
and whereas in the past physicians and meta- 
physicians have come forward with an infinite 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


205 


variety of prescriptions for the guidance of 
mortals, the object of existence is now plain and 
patent to all : to enjoy to the full the life that we, 
as mere accidents of the cosmos, have had thrust 
upon us. Competition is warfare first, last and 
all the time. But nobody would contend that 
there is anything particularly joyous or enjoy- 
able about warfare. Moreover the ultimate ob- 
ject of all this warfare was to place the success- 
ful above and out of reach of competition. It 
could never entirely succeed because even the 
most successful had to fight continually to hold 
their possessions. Co-operation by insuring 
peace, happiness and abundance to all, free from 
struggle and warfare, thus proves itself the scien- 
tifically sound and only rational mode of ex- 
istence. 

In the matter of individual recompense, that 
imaginary rock upon which the co-operative ship 
of' state was expected to be pounded to pieces, 
there has to date been no temptation to depart 
from the established precedent of giving every- 
body everything he or she desires, up to the limit 
of the commonwealth’s productive capacity, in 
return for labor-service rendered the state. This 
phenomenon, impossible of realization as it 
would have been in the handicraft period of pro- 
duction, is now practically accomplished through 


266 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


the tremendous power of modern machinery to 
supplement the work of human hands, increasing 
ten thousand fold their capacity. So marvelous 
is this power indeed that, having regard for the 
limits of human consumption,, on the one hand, 
and the boundless possibilities of machinery, on 
the other, it is readily apparent to many that when 
the extensive public improvements — the railroads, 
highways, cities, parks, rivers and harbors, water- 
storage reservoirs and landscape gardening 
schemes shall have somewhat nearer approached 
completion, thus releasing millions of workers 
for the production of everyday, domestic articles 
of consumption, the problem for the government 
to solve will be: How shall we increase our 
consumptive capacity so that our restless millions, 
for their own physical wellbeing, may find an 
average four-hours-a-day employment ? rather 
than, How shall we be able to provide for the 
increasing requirements of our population? That 
day is in sight and when it arrives the anomalous 
and aitiazing spectacle will be presented of peo- 
ple actually begging for work, as a time-killing, 
anti-monotony boon, instead of anybody being 
unduly concerned lest he should be doing more 
than his share of production. That will be the 
problem, and upon its solution may hang the 
permanency of the co-operative principle itself. 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 267 

However, sufficient unto the day, et cetera. The 
erection and crossing of imaginary bridges is a 
fruitless employment. 

For the present, anyway, the domestic sky is 
without a cloud, contentment is general, peace 
and plenty abound, four hours is the average 
labor-day, important schemes for the welfare 
of all and the aggrandizement of Altruria are 
either nearing completion or well under way and 
few, indeed, are the discords to disturb the se- 
renity of old General Prosperity whose soldiers 
of the common good keep watch and ward all 
up and down the land. 

The old calendar Sunday is kept as has been 
the immemorial custom. That is to say, the popu- 
lace does not work. It is a day of recreation, 
rest, excursioning or what not, according to in- 
dividual preference. Churches are few and far 
between, although there is no hostility, proscrip- 
tion, ostracism or persecution of any sort 
against the proponents of whatever religious cult 
or philosophy. Here and there may be found a 
zealot — ardent, forceful, eloquent — who would 
fain constitute himself the nucleus of a band of 
faithful worshipers at some orthodox or- hetero- 
dox shrine whereat the symbolism, the mystery, 
the pomp and splendor of a bygone age may be 
revived. But the crowds drift carelessly by ; his 


268 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


burning eloquence falls upon unheeding ears. In 
a dim, intangible way, not always to be expressed 
in words, the masses have come to understand 
that the supernatural powers aid those who aid 
themselves and, conversely, that those who suf- 
ficiently aid themselves have little or no need of 
supernatural assistance. They have not forgot- 
ten that the churches and their inspired prophets 
who spoke in the name of the Christ vigorously 
flayed the adherents of co-operation and upheld 
to the last ditch the competitive system under 
which they had led the life of outcast dogs. Such 
are some of the reasons why priestcraft in Al- 
truria is so unpopular. But the time was ripe for 
many forms of superstition to go into intellectual 
bankruptcy and, besides, the rewards of sacer- 
dotal leadership are far from being what they 
once were. Men may still speculate upon what 
the impenetrable future has in store — they doubt- 
less will — ^but one abundant and satisfying life 
in the here-and-now is by most accounted worth 
a baker’s dozen supposititious careers in the here- 
after-and-then ; and this practical view certainly 
does not lack its advantages. 

And as Altruria has gone so has gone the 
world. Canada, Mexico and South America are 
following in her footsteps. They, too, haVe 
learned the better way and are convinced that 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


269 


when nations struggle for the juicy plums of 
conquest and mastery the fruit is only too cer- 
tain to be bitter and battered and worthless to 
the victors. The prediction of President Tem- 
pest in his speech of acceptance that if the com- 
rades of the United States should succeed in 
establishing the co-operative principle over here 
no government on earth could long continue on 
the competitive basis has been amply verified by 
the results ; and that rulership, whether “di- 
vine” or less pretentious, which perpetuated it- 
self by militarism, relying upon the stupidity and 
credulity of the masses, finds nowadays none so 
gullible as to do it honor. Leaders there are and 
no doubt always will be ; but the quality of 
leadership is proven by the quality of service 
rendered. The diplomatic leadership that used 
to rant fulsome and glowing promises to the ear 
only to break them to the hope has lost its power 
over the millions. With the knocking away of 
that former prop of despotism, armed force, dip- 
lomats and diplomacy are in danger of becoming 
extinct. Men no longer meet with honeyed words 
on their lips and murder in their hearts to re- 
enact the role of Judas Iscariot. The spectacu- 
lar and ludicrous farce of holding international 
congresses to devise and sanction beatific meth- 
ods of human butchery has gone out of fashion. 


270 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


For universal peace, which in the language of 
those same diplomatists was described as a 
“bright star floating far above this mundane 
sphere, to be always striven for, but never at- 
tained,” has been realized. The obvious moral 
of all of which is: When striving to rope a 
star, do not expect to round it up by loping away 
from it. 


* ^ sH Hs * 

The flags of Altruria are flying to the breeze, 
the bands are playing in the park at Twenty- 
third Street station. New York City, the eastern 
terminus of the ’Frisco Catapult railroad. Enor- 
mous crowds fill the capacious square and over- 
flow into adjacent territory. Hotel windows and 
balconies are lined with eager, expectant faces 
and surrounding roofs are black with humanity.' 
All are cheering, waving flags, shouting and 
laughing, waiting for the psychological moment. 

And why is the forum crowded? Well, to be 
exact, the Catapult line has completed and in- 
augurated its “catapult” overhead system, op- 
erated by compressed air, by means of which 
the mails and such passengers as are in a, par- 
ticular hurry or who care for the novel sensa- 
tion are expected to cover in three hours the 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


271 


three thousand miles which stretch between New 
York and San Francisco. It lacks a quarter of 
four o’clock P. M. and at four the train will be 
off. Altrurians are interested, not only because, 
this is the first regular train to attempt the run 
on schedule time, but because President Tempest 
and half a dozen of his executive council are to 
be passengers. The bands chop off their music, 
the crush around the station grows denser. The 
president is down for a short speech of congratu- 
lation. He is trying to make good ; but the buzz 
and roar, the tumultuous cheering from the roofs, 
drown his words. Above the din a whistle splits 
the air, short, shrill, peremptory. It is the en- 
gineer’s five-minute signal. 

^'All aboard !” cries the conductor, and the 
president and party wave their adios and mount 
the stairs leading to the elevated platform where 
stands the queer looking train of three cars and 
what passes for an engine. 

The cheering turns to a pandemonium of 
sounds ; the boats on the river set up an unearthly 
shrilling; the bands blare out a quickstep and 
from an adjacent roof another band, all by its 
lonesome, is droning, ^‘Say Au Revoir, But Not 
Good-bye.” 

“Good-bye, President Bill !” 

“Take care of yourself — good presidents are 
scarce !” 


272 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


“There’s nothing slow about you, Bill, old 
man !” 

Thus shouts the crowd as the presidential 
party, bending almost double, crawl into their 
cage, for that is what it is, inasmuch as it is only 
four feet high by less than six feet wide and a 
trifle over sixteen feet in length. 

The station clock chimes out the hour and be- 
fore the last stroke of the gong has ceased tp 
echo there is a sharp hissing, as of released 
air pressure, and the catapult is off. Those who 
occupy vantage points see a black shadow flit 
across North river; and that is all. The Jersey 
coast swallows the shadow and even while the 
watchers train their eyes upon the vanishing 
point the shadow is twenty miles away. 

Once seated within the cage the party experi- 
enced no inconvenience on account of its abbre- 
viated proportions. All was luxurious, tasteful, 
comfortable and although going at the tremend- 
ous clip of nearly twenty miles a minute there 
was an incredible smoothness and freedom from 
jar — scarcely a sense of motion, in fact. 

Seated near the president were Ordway, Mer- 
cereau and George. Mercereau had been look- 
ing out of the window. 

“What do you see ?” inquired President Bill. 

“See !” returned Mercereau, “one might as 
well be in a smoke-house on the Smoky river 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


273 


trying to look at the landscape through a pair 
of smoked glasses!” 

“Well,” said the president philosophically, 
“you can’t expect to whiz across country at a 
thousand miles an hour and count the chickens 
and rose bushes along the track.” 

“This card table must be intended for use,” 
declared George, “suppose we have a game of 
whist.” 

Nobody objecting the deal commenced, the 
president and Ordway against George and Mer- 
cereau. From time to time daylight was shut off 
and turned on again with a glare and suddenness 
that were startling. The train was out 
in western Pennsylvania, as the region used to be 
called, going through a series of cuts and tunnels, 
each from a mile to six or eight miles long. 
It was rather hard on the eyes and the presi- 
dent swore softly. Almost before he could de- 
termine the cause of the annoyance, however, 
the catapult had left them far behind and was 
rushing through Ohio. Now and again a blood- 
curdling shriek cut the air and died away in a 
long-drawn minor wail. It was nothing but a 
surface train proceeding in the opposite direction 
at a speed half as prodigious as their own. 

President Bill and his partner won the first 
game; their opponents had just scored the sec- 


274 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


ond and the cards were being shuffled for the 
rubber when the train passed through what ap- 
peared to be a thick cloud of yellow smoke or 
fog and their speed began to perceptibly slacken. 

“Jerusalem ! What was that?’’ demanded Ord- 
way. 

“That’s the 20-mile signal,” explained the pres- 
ident. “We are approaching Chicago. If we 
play fast enough we can finish the rubber before 
w€ slide into Denver.” And even while he spoke 
the Catapult was skillfully brought to a standstill 
over the heads of a wildly yelling and surging 
throng of Chicagoans. 

Two or three mail pouches were thrown out 
upon the platform, as many were picked up, 
the president and his party waved a gracious 
acknowledgment from the car windows and the 
train shot out of the station on its overland 
run with the speed of a rocket. 

“Can any of you people tell me why it is 
that the mails are so light?” propounded Mer- 
cereau, picking up his hand for the rubber. 

Nobody seemed equal to the effort and he went 
on: “Then perhaps I’d better enlighten you. 
The reason is because a person who had to write 
a communication of any length could board the 
Catapult, cross the continent, tell it and get 
back, all in less time than he could write it 
out and mail it.” 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


275 


“That isn’t so bad,” acknowledged President 
Bill, “now I’ll give you one. Why is it that al- 
though twenty miles a minute is considered pretty 
fair speed, even for Altrurians, we’re apparently 
going a thousand times faster than that?” 

“You’ll have to show me,” declared Mercereau, 
“why, if we were skating through space at any 
such gait as you are giving us credit for, our time 
between New York and ’Frisco would be less 
than a quarter of a second.” 

“Right you are ; but I think we can do better 
than that — we have so far,” the president replied. 

“Great head !” cried Mercereau, taking out his 
watch. “Boys, we’re all an hour fast. We left 
New York at four o’clock. It is only four now. 
Central time. It will be four by Mountain time 
when we reach Denver and it’ll be the same hour 
when we pull up in ’Frisco — ^provided we’ve got 
no Jonah aboard. Therefore we do the para- 
doxical stunt of crossing the continent in no 
time at all.” 

“That explains it all,” murmured George, lazily 
dealing the cards around. 

“Explains what?” demanded Ordway. 

“Well, to tell the truth, I was puzzled to. ac- 
count for the circumstance that we played only 
two games of whist between New York and 
Chicago ; but of course if we covered the distance 


276 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


in no time that makes us out pretty swift guys, 
after all.” 

“Better hurry up,” suggested Mercereau, “or 
you’ll be more amazed than ever to find yourself 
in Denver before you’ve thrown around the first 
hand. We’re crossing the Mississippi now, or 
rather we were when I commenced to say it. 
I suppose we’re approaching the Missouri and 
Scarlet Buttes by this time.” 

“Say !” proceeded George, with a glance out of 
the window at the jumbled and tangled blur that 
under the old methods of locomotion would have 
been called a landscape, “I’ve got a hunch that 
something’s going to happen. I ” 

“Where do you feel it the worst?” inquired 
President Bill, solicitously. 

“This is no joke,” asserted the committeeman, 
“when I was young my old dad told me to 
always go slow and — look at the way I am fol- 
lowing his sage counsel!” 

The roar that greeted this pleasantry was taken 
advantage of by Ordway to work off a gruesome 
yarn relating to one of his own early escapades 
in which unsophisticated youth and a circus 
balloon prominently figured, to the temporary 
damage of the former and the utter demolition 
of the latter. 

Then President Bill piked in with a story of 
how he once attempted to go down the Mt. 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


277 


Washington railroad on a slide-board ; of how the 
combination got away from him, and of his six- 
mile ride in a minute and thirteen seconds, hit- 
ting the level track at the foot of the mountain 
with a momentum that carried him all the way 
to Crawford’s. 

All of which jarred loose one of the flood-gates 
in Mercereau’s memory and he commenced to re- 
late a weird tale of Alp-climbing in which two 
rival guides got to quarreling during an ascent, 
and of how words led to blows, finally precipi- 
tating the whole outfit down the mountain where, 
by a miracle of luck, the party escaped death. 
He was in the midst of this thriller when an 
exploding track torpedo and another cloud of 
yellow smoke gave warning that the train was 

nearing Denver But something 

was manifestly wrong. Instead of slowing down 
the Catapult shot through the town like a lost 
bullet seeking its affinity and plunged into the 

rayless viscera of the Rockies 

Inky darkness supervened and a nameless ter- 
ror Had the driver gone mad? or 

dropped dead at his controlling lever ? or . . . 
or what? Somebody should have switched on 
the electric lights. 

Crouching in the darkness by the windows of 
that winged Pegasus which had raced the sun 


278 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


neck and neck all the way from New York to 
Denver, and had not lost an inch of ground, 
the president and his friends, as the train whizzed 
through one gloomy tunnel after another and, 
emerging, leaped fearful chasms at a bound, 
could only dumbly wonder what the end would 

be Not a word was spoken; 

not a sound broke the stillness except 'the low, 

vibrating sing-song of the rail 

Once President Bill arose mechanically and 
started to crawl forward, evidently with the in- 
tention of investigating; but, remembering that 
the only exits were on the side of the car, he 
dropped helplessly back into his chair. 

Now the train is rushing madly across a wide 
plain at the far side of which is a towering, 
snow-summited mountain. Straight up into the 
August sunshine, it lifts its solitary, majestic 
head — up into the soft blue dome unfiecked by 
the semblance of a cloud — thousands and thou- 
sands of feet. And, running in a shining thread 
toward the tip-top — oh, wonder of wonders! — 
the spellbound watchers behold what is appar- 
ently a duplicate of the Catapult track 

The mountain is miles away, yet in a breath 

the train has covered the distance 

‘'Good God! we’re lost!” groans someone in 
'a voice hoarse with horror. 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


279 


The cry is the signal of doom for, with blanched 
faces and frozen hearts, the passengers realize 
that the train has left the main track and is 
climbing that precipitous grade. Straight up it 
shoots, like a swallow on the wing and then 
plunges off into sheer space thou- 
sands of feet to the rocky gorge below! 

Over and over, crashing and bumping, falling, 
dropping, tumbling to destruction, rolls the Cata- 
pult. And President Bill, the perspiration break- 
ing from every pore, cries out with the agony of 
a strong man who meets death in its most fearful 

form and waits for the crash that 

will end all things for him 


i 


CHAPTER XIII. 


«0h!— oh!— oh!! Bill! , Bill Tempest!! 
What is the matter with you? What is the mat- 
ter with you? What is the matter with you? 
What is the matter with you? Oh ! my gracious 
goodness ! Bill ! Bill ! Bill ! — o-oh !” 

Thus adjured, the honorable ex-assemblyman 
and novelist opened his eyes and stared with 
interest at his surroundings. He found him- 
self in his own cozy den at the top of the house. 
There were his uncorrected proofs on the table; 
there was the brown pitcher which had contained 
the delicious rum punch ; there were the warm 
ashes of the fire that had died out in the grate ; 
and there, large as life, was his faithful better 
half, still faithfully and hysterically shrieking 
at the top of her lungs. 

A look of exceeding relief overspread the coun- 
tenance of the novelist. 

“This is better,” he murmured, glancing at the 
clock. It was 2 :30 in the morning. 

“For heaven’s sake, Josie,” he expostulated, 
stretching his legs to work some of the kinks 
out of his joints, “if you’ll let up inquiring 
what’s the matter with me long enough to permit 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


281 


it ril pass along the same conundrum — only 
I shouldn’t be able in a lifetime to throw into it all 
the variations that you can. The chronometer 
informs me that it is now 2:30 ante meridiem — 
and here you are in your street wraps instead of 
being abed and asleep as the ‘plain duty’ of the 
situation would seem to suggest. Now — perhaps 
I’m a little slow to — er ” 

“Why, of course I’m dressed for the street!” 
exclaimed madame, emphatically, “I’ve just cpme 
in from the street.” 

“Oh — you have,” returned her husband, in- 
credulously. 

“Certainly — Darby Blake saw me home.” 

“Oh — he did. Well, if it’s a fair question — 
what the devil were you and Darby Blake doing 
on the street at this bewitching hour?” 

“Why, good gracious I — don’t you know we’ve 
had a fearful storm? When we started for 
the theatre the storm caught us down in Morn- 
ingside park and we turned back. We had a per- 
fectly terrible time getting back to the Blakes’s. 
It was snowing great guns and the auto could 
scarcely budge at all. Of course we all stopped 
there waiting for the storm to abate. Instead 
of letting up it kept right on snowing and blow- 
ing till after midnight. I was on needles, for 
I knew you would be anxious about me ” 


282 


WHEN THINGS WERE DOING 


was simply worried to death,” glibly inter- 
polated her lord and master. ‘‘If you hadn’t 
come just when you did I should have been out 
looking for you.” 

Madame’s ingenuous dark eyes mirrored the 
doubt that arose in her soul, but she went on: 
“Then we had to wait for the snow-plows to 
clear the sidewalk. Why! I guess the snow 
is ten feet deep. You never saw the like — ^but 
here I am. When I came into the room I thought 
you were choking to death ! Such a frightful 
noise as you were making — ugh! Now, sir, 
give an account of yourself — I want to know 
what you’ve been doing all this time.” 

“Oh — nothing much,” said the honorable Bill, 
“guess I must have fallen asleep, waiting for you, 
and had the nightmare. Come, my dear, let’s 
get to bed.” 


THE END 


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